Incarcerated
by goldenmeadow
Summary: Two centuries. Two men. One meeting turns their worlds inside out. Massacres, immortals, the grandest love ever imagined. Dark, Southern, sensual. Slash. AU, M, EPOV, Jasper POV
1. Inculcated

**UPDATE SEPTEMBER 8****th****, 2013: Hello my sexay slashy lovers! You will find a new addition at the end of this fic. My first m/m romance was published by Grand Central-Forever Yours in August! It's amazing what several more years of writing and NYC editing can do for you ;). Chapter five is a sneak peek at my original novel, **_**In His Command**_**, the first in the **_**Don't Tell **_**series. All my links to social media and book info are updated on my profile! **

**xoxo, Rie~**

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This is completely dark and slash and dank. DO NOT even read Dead Confederates into this (which, by the way, you should be reading as it features gorgeous gritty Eddie, Bubba, and our beloved Equal Opportunity Fucker, Jazz). Aside from the setting, this stands alone and will be short, two to three chapters at most.

Warning: This is very dark. This is very slash. Consider yourself warned.

Inspired by Mer and the genius work of C-Me-Smile (of _Begin Again_ fame); many thanks to you two lovelies as well as RedVelvetHeaven for putting up with my ramblings.

Cheers, as ever, to the most beautiful, fabulously skilled, confidant and beta a girl could have, V!

Disclaimer: I think I can say I own this worrying beautiful sensual tale. However, I do not own Twilight.

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**One: Inculcated**

**And so it begins.**

I left. I left my family. I left their lives. Left my life. The screechy images made torn, ragged holes in my demon heart that never beat.

Jesus was no friend of mine.

Neither was God. And Lucifer was just a figment of the hell I needed to fire around me in inferno. My spirit, my corpse, my guts were a dark copse, alone in a black hole. A void, a vacuum, twisting in my ever-sin, avoiding inhumanity and humanity alike. An only son amongst a coven of vampires coupled up, tasting flames and incinerated by the yearning of an emptied body that had beaten its hasty retreat to Hades upon black-bedecked plumed knife-sharp wings.

Revolting.

Angry.

Decomposing.

Flesh that did not belong to this earth. And would never know Heaven.

A spirit departed, one hundred years ago.

With hate. Hate for my salve, my balm, my sire, my savior. And my mother, my birth, my death, and my infinite, indestructible life that went on…._and on._

At first there was blood and thirst and gore. Veins and throbbing arteries and hearts pumping with life. I needed to kill it all. Taste it all. On my tongue, sliding down my throat, into my belly, warm and heady.

Mortals. I had been one. Afraid of the dark, as a child, and now I _was_ that thing that went bump in the night. Sleepless. Insomniac. Troubled by time that tripled and tainted and haunted my essence…effervescent with absolutely _nothing._

Human beings; my prey, my quarry. I left Carlisle. I eschewed the doldrums-weary lassitudes of Esme, the lack of vicissitude. Smothering me with vampire mother-love. A motherload of feeling.

Spent, hated, reviled, filled with bitumen and vindictive deadly deeds, I made my maddened way back. To the fold. Innocents, they had no compunction when they opened their stone-cold arms to enfold me once again.

Lambs to the slaughter.

The clan had grown amidst these southern climes like the conquering, climbing tendrils of honeysuckle. Clinging. Needy. Desperate for commune. Commonality. A toehold, a tongue hold, a respite from the bloody abattoirs of our species.

Rosalie and Emmett, a study in disparity. She was blonder than seraphswith the spiteful tongue of a fishwife. Her mate, her opposite, was a dark behemoth, but interred in giant bonhomie and the grand jocularity of a court jester. Coupled and united, they were yet one more nail in my creaking, pineboard coffin. Suffocating beneath the handfuls of dirt heaped on top.

Civilians traipsed about, unawares, distinctly smelling of meat and meal and victuals and organs and intestines filled with the distension of more and more and more crimson blood.

Variations of lust were hateful harbingers all around me. In a manse that took up the white-shuttered, lush verdant lawned expanse of a plantation, the Cullens homed in. Peacocks fanned their tail feathers and squawked and screamed from southern pine to live oak, spoiling silence with their scratchy calls, raping air with their bright cerulean, violet, alizarin-dappled yells that sounded like a mortal's dying, begging for the pain to end, for life to begin anew. Necks lengthened, butterflies burrowed into lantana, hummingbirds succored, my hands clenched with want to murder every living thing.

My bed was my haven and my drear bedroom my sanctuary. I needed nothing. Ascetic, like a monk; a eunuch. Three books, a shelf of LPs full of static from over-use. A phonograph. Grey walls, limp linen portieres over my windows. The buttery sun sought me as I sprawled, cold as judgment, across my high bedstead. A human would have placed a stool to the side to mount it in the olden days. I simply pounced up, immersed in the call of rich, thick, clotting, corporeal blood that I deigned not to taste again.

Behind the Georgian structure, the grounds littered with forgotten little-known abodes of slaves, a decaying greenhouse, and cemeteries of skeletons pelted over by dianthus and deep maroon calla lilies, I was callous. The creek trawled up sea water mixed with freshwater and dolphins innocently splashed amongst carnivorous alligators, lethal stingrays and the talons of osprey and red-shouldered hawks alike.

Further decades tickled the recesses of my lamenting mind. Thoughts, images, and conversations of the married vampires around me gouged me with their affection.

As if by the hand of Noah himself, another two traipsed up to this ark that was afloat as a sanctuary amidst the flood of people when so many of our kind wandered alone.

Compelled by a magnetism that was beyond me, my feet took to the polished oak steps of the enormous staircase. The closer I got to the front vestibule, the tighter I gripped the railing, digging grooves into the smooth wood. My legs shook and my lips trembled over breaths that turned choppy. And swilling upon the air that I raped into my nose, that rolled so tastily and luxuriously around my tongue like silk and sackcloth combined was a scent deep as earth with its musk. Tang of salt wind and brine. Soil and sea.

Sheltered under the portico from the midday heat of the July sun, they stood. Two-by-two, hand-in-hand. The sight that hit me floored me, deluged me, and caused instant paralysis. Tiny and tucked into her lover like a permanent stole, I stared at the woman. Dressed in black from head to toe, she was unquestionably beautiful with her ethereal Lilliputian features. But I felt nothing. I frowned and glared questioningly at her. She took one step back, one closer to her man, and the rounds of her eyes that were as tiger-spun as mine stabbed with some kind of understanding. It wasn't _her_. This dire requirement, this _I must have you now_ was directed at _him_!

The capering infusion intensified, and the realization of its masculinityspeared me, throwing me into undiscovered forests damp with decaying vegetation, and into the surly curls of the ocean's roiling surface.

I was not to be spared.

Clawing through fragrance and feeling unlike any I had ever known, I turned my head minutely and becalmed myself. And looked at this man from beneath the asylum of my eyelashes lest my hankering, my ravenous passion become apparent. From grimy boot-tips up over lanky thighs that were slightly bowlegged. Slim of hips, his torso hidden from my perusal by a chambray shirt that had been hastily rolled up muscled forearms. I curled my hands into fists in order not to grab those sloping arms and run my fingers all up him to the path that I continued along.

At his throat, his collar and three buttons open, I lingered over the pale slices on view. And my palm begged me to place it upon that triangle of skin, to slide over his strong throat, grip the nape of his neck. My tongue worked its way around my mouth, trying to flee in order to trace his prominent Adam's apple that was a work of art in itself.

Circumventing his face, I noted that he was tall, an inch or two above me, tawny, of animals and savagery tamed. The vague waves of his hair were like ripe wheat swaying in an unending field.

Lower, over his forehead, I stepped back and braced my hand against a pillar. And looked again. With a dancing expression, he appeared to welcome my very rude staring. _He has secrets._ I couldn't halt my sweeping concentrated inspection. Loose, lush lips that looked plucked from down and velvet and pillows of kings. Sturdy barely imperfect features. Cheekbones high, that would fit my hands as I brought his mouth over mine. Handsome, rugged. Flawed and flecked all over with nibbling scars of bite marks that were shiny and iridescent as the insides of an oyster shell.

His entire being a shoal that I wanted to berth against!

My primitive primal need was abrupt.

Lithe, lean, long, and leonine. I could imagine his cock. More of the same, _but thick_.

Immediately engorged with venom and sex and want, I fell back against the column that buttressed me. All eyes were on me. I heard in the back of my head vague simpering feminine introductions – _Alice, pleased to meet you…Edward, always the melodramatic one – _I looked up into his quizzical topaz eyes and quivered as my hand met the tepid tapered fingers that were stretched out towards me. His voice was mellifluous, music and fluid, and an abyss of rhythm to my fatigued hearing, tones of gravel roads and twang of Rodeo, "How do you do, Edward?" I faltered, feverish, frightened! I nodded my head and held dearer to that hand while he carried on, a bit nonplussed, "I'm Jasper." Yellow, silica, _Jasper._ Gemstone, lodestone. _Jasper._ The strength of his clasp was not surprising, but the gnawing of it caused fresh wounds and fantasies of his knuckles brushing my nipples and that embrace, cool and hard, wrapped around my cock.

I wanted to shove that burnished head between my thighs.

As he released my hand, he briefly dipped down into the valleys where digit met palm, brushing against that tender secret skin. Shivers raced over me. That stroke, beneath my sac, along the private soft tendon that was a causeway from cock to ass.

Turned on, as never before, and tumultuous, I listened as long as I could bear to Jasper's tumbleweed voice. The pleasantries spewed forth like so much unnecessary bullshit when I just wanted to bring this man, this Jasper, into my arms, up the staircase, and into my bed.

A waspish noise stung my ears and I whipped around to find the glare of Alice frigidly dissecting me.

Turning on my heel I stalked back to my den. Alone.

Crippled by the swooping down of this extreme blinding emotion, I felt like an amputee with the ghost of a limb itching, tingling, tainting as soon as I left Jasper's presence.

With one meeting of one man, I had gone from lonely and embittered to solitary and embattled!

Pacing, sighing, heaving, I stomped about my room. Peeled the curtains back and peered through the panes down below to the port-cochere. Sensing movement, and seemingly something more, Jasper looked up. His mouth grew to a crooked eclipse of a smile. My fingers pressed to the warped glass as if pushing against that cushioned wet red curvature, urging entrance to his tongue, his teeth, his venom. I wanted to crush him to my face, and lap at his sleek inner cheeks.

And then I heard her, the hiss of silent thoughts, "_Tsk, tsk, Edward. That permutation will not be happening. You might want to learn to keep your thoughts to yourself."_

My lovelorn glare left Jasper's face and turned to his mate, morphed into a defiant stare. _What the hell?_ Following my glower, Jasper shook his head minutely at Alice. And her grasp on his arm made small dents in his platinum tissue.

I leapt back from the window to consider. He was spellbinding, captivating, enchanting. A sinister trill of laughter wove up the interior of the house…_Alice._ And she knew…_what?_ If I could hear thoughts, there was no telling what evil tricks she could conjure. It was obvious that even among the supernatural she was paranormal. Just as I was.

More maudlin meanderings on this woman were cut short as I caught the whiff of him entering the house. Swarthy, gritty, crops burgeoning. And always the cresting of the sea over sooty sand.

Again, my erection forged up over the muscled skin of my abdomen, pulsing within my pants, scraping against the wiry trail of hair that was a tangled line from my navel to the base of my cock, where it bloomed to a crisp auburn brush that my dick canopied over.

What is this? _What the hell is this?_

Jasper's physique enlivened every single sexual urge in my forever–frozen seventeen year old body! It was impossible, intriguing, and undeniable. Having seen scant more than a hint of his arms, his neck, his hands, and his face, I was permanently aroused as I flecked over his image that was an aquatint etched in powdered rosin upon my brain.

Slowly, so slowly and gently, I popped open my button-flies_. Long, strong, foreign, male fingers._ Perpendicular from my pelvis, my cock stood. Erect and full and thick and leaking. Sticky already. I tugged my shirt up over my head and tossed it aside. _Lean, sinewy forearms rested against my naked chest, running in long lengths up and down the hills of muscle and the valleys between. Short blonde hairs tickled my skin into reverberating chaos, moth wings barely touching._

My breath was icy gusts. I leant against the bedpost. I watched myself with red, dark, drowsy eyes in the antique oval mirror on the opposite wall. Imagining _him_ in front of me.

With a shudder that racked the floorboards as it shook from hand over my arms and down my entire body to my bare feet, I hesitantly placed my palm over the mushrooming head of my cock. Sucking in sharp at the feel, I was too sensitive. Too pensive. About to become undone.

Poison to palm, lifting up the tiny droplets and working them into the swells of my palms, the fleshy rigid bits of my fingers, rubbing it in, I wrapped my hand at the root. _Like a wild thing he clasped me, his hands were beasts that worked in escalating circles, rotating over my turgid dick, pulsating upon the thick heavy lengthwise vein, fingering each ridged ripple of tissue all the way up and all the way down. Down. Down. Over my sac, that he handled with a knowing rolling touch, a push down on the steel-tense bridge of skin between my balls and my ass. Up up up. Swirling the pad of his index finger round and round the lip of my head while his thumb and forefinger nickel and dimed the rarified weeping slit atop, sucking out the inner tiny lips, that he met with a deep French kiss. The tip of his rooting tongue tucked just slightly inside, opening my cock to him. _

"FUCK!" I slammed my ass against the post, and ripped one last time up my cock, twisted at the top, saw again Jasper's mouth lipping just over the top of me, and came so fucking hard that venom would not stop its cascade for what felt like minutes!

_~~ll~~_

Tick tock. Tick tock. Minutes, days, months.

The new couple roosted.

And I was trapped.

Wanting him. Wanting to hate him.

I found that I could not. A paradox; Jasper was a killing machine, murderer, mercenary, a legion of loss now reformed; a vegetarian vampire, lover, husband and gentle soul who was light and breezy, easily humored, deeply intelligent and empathetic, except when reminded of his bloody history of human and immortal wars. Except when he was too overwrought by my puking passion, or overly-used by Alice's avarice.

Learning, quickly, that Jasper could sense and warp the sentiments of others, I was bound and gagged and gagging by the idea that he had known straight away of my lust for him. Stripped down to a pyre of pure need, my keen, keening, corrupt want was plain to him.

Never disgracing me, never shaming me, not once causing me to feel foolish for my misplaced affections, Jasper was humble. The picture of a gentleman that shouldered a world of sensation capable of felling a lesser man.

But I didn't know what he was really thinking.

I wanted to be inside him, _be_ inside of him. _Be._

I had no idea what he was thinking.

His peaceful mind quelled all the thoughts around him. In his presence I could swim in a still lake, the surface unrippled by the stippling utterances of others. He spread his peace to me, like a trance. Not through the power of his ability, but through the innate goodness that clamored and warred with the death-dealing artifacts of his past.

The silence was…_golden. _

Alice alone broke through. Perhaps because their bond trumped mine with him. Worse than mere thoughts, hers were moving images, flickering and speckled with possibilities of the future. Never once was I shown a moment where he and I were together as I wished.

In this way, she sought to become his spokesperson. Pithy bitch.

I remained beholden. Each day that passed linked me more irrefutably to him. Presence made the heart grow fonder. Absence would have killed me.

This carnal desire cowered me. I had been with women of our kind before. Was capable, knowledgeable, well-versed in sex. Because blood lust conjoined so thoroughly with bodily lust, I had never fucked a human female. It would end as a blood bath.

Of all the people and supernatural fantastical beings I'd ever met, I had never felt this abysmal depth, this divine height! Attraction followed no rules. Not man versus woman. Love and sex were unprejudiced; whimsical, capricious, unpredictable, and harmful creatures.

All the while, Alice crooked her hold over Jasper towards me so that there could be no question. Her twinning to him was strong. She twined around him like an infiltrating vine. Suctioning. Holding tight. I could tell by the way they were together that there was supreme love, but also loss. If they came together solely out of circumstances, surely there was hope!

I hated hope. Mired heart-deep in its swampy morass, it teased me with its potential, which Alice always sternly denied.

Those days that limped by, through an entire season, I left my room. The abode, the grounds. I took to wandering in the scrub and bog. Moldy vegetation. Hating my hesitation when I knew I should simply leave this fold.

Escapism. Begging the fates to release me and offering up deals that went unanswered.

It was inevitable. Through the persistent baiting of my desire, I had inveigled Jasper to me. As a friend. He came to me, found me in the sylvan forests, the shadows and light dancing amongst fen and furrow.

With his ease, his soothing nature, I could almost rid myself of the clawing, garroting gruel of the daemon desire. _Almost._

Stories of a grotty life, a soldier and a newborn infantryman. Maria and Charlotte and Peter. Then Alice. He rarely spoke of her. As my lascivious scandalous thoughts mounted, like a cavalryman upon the broad back of a steed, Jasper sought to dispel the queasy, craven ache in my craw. I felt the push of his peace against the permeable force-field of my feeling and shook my head at him.

Trivialities passed between us. Daily outings spun glittery webs of tales and lust that I could not withhold, acknowledged but never spoken of.

If possible, I knew love to overtake lust. Heart filling to surpass cock hardening.

Was it worse to feel this alive and untouched, or to be inert, a fossil, an insect caught in liquid hardening amber, still and untouchable? Intact but for this shard of ice that was my heart breaking apart with each meeting.

An innocent brush of skin, a touch, a questioning glance and a recognition amidst spangled words that made me smile, laugh, frown and worry…that was all it took to razor me clean through with maddening want to pound into the slough of his body, engulfed in cold heat and narrow virgin scabbard, upon the grass, the muck, enfolded in murk.

"I could leave you alone, Edward," he stated in that honey husky hallowed voice.

_No, you cannot._ "Don't," it was barely a whisper of barley and sun and hollow.

In the salty, warm creek, we swam often. Disrobed quickly before one another. As if just brothers. Knowing better. The rigidity of my cock could not be mistaken beneath my undershorts.

Gossamer glow of skin. Tough beneath the trials of this life and that other existence, his wounds shimmery shades of silver. Silken small nipples that were hot points on his lithe torso. Softened bits of flesh, buttons of finest silk, with a hue of pale pink that darkened to swarthiness as I watched the current of my wandering gaze touch each revealed inch of him. They prickled up with a ring of minor goosebumps. I imagined the feel of those paps nubbling beneath the scoring flat of my tongue. Spun from infinitely fine skin, his areoles would be downy and ductile. Tactile. Circling up with the icy tip of my tongue until I toppled over the strung out bead, sucking it in with a clamp of lips and a scissor of teeth until he pulled me by my hair, smothering me against his chest.

Taciturn but for my hunger that washed like a riptide against his form, I did not halt my inspection. I knew he knew. And I was done with shame and guilt and the Jesus-complex. This was mutiny. Infested in the need for satiation, I was knee deep in my own squalor.

And still I looked on.

Thinking with my unblinking eyes.

Of how I would work my open mouth over the wealth of flesh on show. Down the midden of his chest, to either side where I would suckle upon each muscled rib as if it was my last meal. Inward to his navel, with the peach fuzz that sprung below. Purse my lips and pull the edge inside my mouth and pulse my tongue into that small, hidden well.

Indentations of body to the left and right, his boxers were low-slung and damp from water, adhering to the thick, vividly indecent shape of his dick. Thick and long, just as I had fabricated. Slick cotton fabric outlined the way his cock rested low upon his thigh, the pelt of his sex hair whorled lightly down to the waistband of his boxers that were so low slung I gasped outright at the idea that half an inch lower, the base of his dick began!

With just a nod, with simply some semblance of acquiescence, I would grab his ass and bring him to my face, nip and bite through threads. Nuzzle and muzzle my groans against him!

Jasper was all man.

And I craved him.

Jumping back into the water, splashes dashed me on the shoreline that I shared with fiddler crabs and one or two pelicans, Jasper beckoned me and joked, "I think you need to cool off, Edward." But his eyes were pleading ingots, and I did not know the meaning of all I wanted, everything I could not have.

Once coupled, once changed and cuffed to another, the bond was prophesied to be unbreakable. Was Alice that for Jasper?

I bit my tongue, decapitated my desire. Made cruel crewelwork of that which I lived for, and had already died for.

All the time that Jasper and I met in the woods, Alice upped the ante.

I wanted to take heart from her shrieking visions; surely she would have lain off if there was no hope at all for me and Jasper.

With the most pustulating poison, Alice creeped nightly inside of me, with dainty footsteps that bespoke my demise. Fodder for my mind that was nothing more than a trash heap, a graveyard of all I wanted that I had not known I wanted.

The two of them, coupling, copulating, _fucking,_ Jasper and Alice entwined in maggoty, pornographic reels. She, a lazy black kitten, licking him into orgasm. He, a supine, stretched-out being. Taking all of her. On top of her, behind her, in her, tasting her and eating her and crying out as he met his maker, le petit mort, inside of her sluice, I couldn't stop watching! I had to leave. _Alice_, stretching all over him with her taut naked body, fluffy with purring.

This was worse than depressing solitude. This was feeling with no place to squander it. No one to give it to.

Starving to slither into a fissure in the earth's mantle, to edge into his arms. _I had to go._

Tick tock. Tick tock.

A flock of time.

The pigswill slosh of my mind unstilled. Unstuck. Soiled and sullied and all I could see was his virtue. His virility. Immortal minutes, escalating days, landmine months.

I fled….


	2. Initiated

**Toshy, thank you sexy equine know-it-all!**

**To my Dead girls; and especially Mer, and Christie who made me feel like this like was something I could possibly do.**

**To my incredible beta V, well, you're the bees knees and all that is honey!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but damn, I kind of own this little glimpse into Jasper's past.**

******WARNING: This is DARK…SLASH…And MORE*******

**Yeah, so I lied. Know that teaser I sent out? It's for chapter four… I hadn't foreseen the next two. Hey, I ain't Alice!). **

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**Two: Initiated**

**Jasper POV**

_~~ll~~_

_Clip clop, clip clop,_ when sleep raced away from me on its galloping hooves night after night, for infinity, I returned to the place of my ruin.

Limbs were blasted off at close proximity, yet the infantrymen were too untrained and farsighted to hit the major arteries that would cause immediate end. As monsters, we followed the death-trail of the warring armies marching hither and thither to Day's Pass, Ditch Bayou, Nashville and Kildeer Mountain. I felt compelled to drink the leaking last warm drops of the casualties' blue and gray blood, putting a quick end to their wretchedness.

Maria and her sisters feasted and left them for famine; carnage and carrion for vultures. I hunted after the trio, twisting those gasping heads quickly to the side, snatching their last breath, tempting my tongue and gilding myself in one ounce of humanity. So slight it wouldn't even be a drop at the bottom of a canning jar.

She had come upon me with her sisters Nettie and Lucy. A trefoil of tyranny.

_Clip clop._

Desert, plains, prairies. Mountains, hills, valleys. North, South, aggression.

_Clip clop._

I was Major Whitlock of the Confederate Army, tasked with murdering my Union brothers over a disagreement having to do with the ownership of human flesh. The year of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address marked the annum of my mortal death.

The shod hooves of my steed, of Morgan stock, restlessly pounded gravel. His high-pitched snicker and whinny alerted me to tomfoolery afoot.

The tincture of time that failed to end, my mottled silver pocket watch laid heavily against my skin, chained by the fob to the inside of my worsted wool long coat. Seconds slowed. The same as they did when we were knee-deep in battle. When all that I wanted was for the passing of minutes and the hours of bloodshed to hurry along to the end! Seeing that the last of the evacuees from the besieged Texas city were well upon their way to some semblance of safety, I turned to Caison to settle him. Soothing his long chestnut mane, he whipped a mouthful of foam at me and his eyes rolled back in distress. Pawing the earth and baring his teeth with each biting second that passed.

She had come upon me with her sisters, who were neither as bold nor as beautiful as her. And not _half_ as frightening.

A tiny wisp of a girl, she was not hardly a woman. Swarthy and foreign, sultry, and obviously Spanish with the lilt of her words that shook me further into a daze, "Beunas tardes, little soldier. What wickedness finds you out here, a lone man on such a distressing nigh?"

I blinked twice, knowing that my lichen covered eyes were the likes of a statue's unthinking stare. Standing tall, I doffed my cap, but was unable to call forth words.

A girlish giggle, that was at odds with the wicked glimmer in eyes so carnelian that they could not be true, emolliated from her plump red lips. Clapping her hands, this woman of the musical voice whispered with subtle carillons of laughter to the other two. Gliding silently into the sudden mist, they disappeared, leaving me alone with the Castilian maiden.

Though there was nothing about her that spoke of a damsel in distress, I wanted to relay her to a more secure location, away from raiders, soldiers, convicts that had been let loose. "Miss, may I escort you to the next town? The army has set up tents and food-" at that, the young lady laughed brazenly, bearing the whitest teeth I had seen in years. Looking sharper than my well-oiled, honed bayonet, I stepped back and flinched.

Something was off with this woman. Each step I fell back upon, she advanced forward. More strategic than General Lee. Her skin and eyes and fine little form were not of this world. _Strange._ Unable to clear my mind that was foggy as a verdant swamp at dawn, I watched with fear as her petite hand tolled up the ratty sleeve of my coat.

I was young and untouched but for the chaste kisses and hasty contact I stole while I said adieu to Delilah, my betrothed. Hoping simply to live, to keep marching through the endless seasons of this war on stiffened frostbitten feet, wet with rot, surviving gangrenous wounds seeping puss; deveined, not at all glorious, and just needing to make it back to my affianced so that I could make an honest woman of her.

I could not make out the senorita'sobjective.

Crowded time passed with each loaded click of the second hand as I observed something akin to ill-intent wash over the strong sweltering features of this gentle lady. My pocket watch that had passed to me from my Whitlock forefathers felt at once oppressive, damning, and a comforting relic.

Wet behind the ears for all my twenty years, I shook when she pressed closer.

_Clip clop…_she released Caison with the hard, smart smack of a natural horsewoman to his auburn flank. Suddenly I was more scared of her than the death-knell of musket-fire or the indefatigable spread of smallpox.

So close to home I could taste the cool, tangy, mint juleps drunk beneath the scorching afternoon sun. I could feel the concentrated flesh of gamey wild roasted quail upon my tongue, smell the scorch of potatoes dug only an hour ago from the earth, packed deep in coals, and blackberry cobbler warming on the cast iron stove. Scant miles away, the sights, sounds, and scents of home reached me on the night-dark breeze that threw hazy skeletal clouds across the golden harvest moon. With filial knowledge, I knew that my mother was on the back porch, looking up at the starlit sky as we each promised to do every night. Naming constellations and calling me home.

I crossed myself and said goodbye to her. All of my fight flew away on the lengthening wings of a nocturnal barn owl that hooted with its yellow eyes gaping as it raced past in search of unsuspecting rodents. Because I knew, surely, that I would die now.

A good foot shorter than myself, she led me off into the field, cold February grass crunched underfoot. Tugging my hand, she bade me to sit down, and in a most improper move, seated herself upon my lap. The thick rich black lace of her gown spread out over my legs like a gypsy's fan, her arms twined around my shoulders. She smiled a blood curdling smile and sang lowly, "_Me llamo Maria._ And who would you be?"

With her lips hovering at my neck causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps, I could barely answer, "Jasper. Major Jasper Whitlock, miss."

"Jasper, _mi amore_," a numbing stroke of her icy tongue was eclipsed by the sick feeling of my throat being gashed open!

_Mi amore._ This suffering was halfway between ecstasy and crippling, grappling daemons of hell as this girl-turned-animal suckled all of my liquid out and propelled delicate silver yarns of poison back in. Like a leech that wouldn't let loose even pelted beneath a heavy dose of sea-salt on her impassible flesh.

The dying, the screams, the howls of my compatriots in battle, the sanctioned killing of fellow citizens, their deaths seeming to spill bright fluid blood on my hands. Undiminished, unnatural shrieks. A flurry of memories and savagery paralyzed me; knee deep in mud, face-to-face, bayonets sinking, sucking, hitting bone and tissue and organ and cartilage in this most uncivil of wars!

Those sounds magnified and came back to me, ten thousand fold, and in my own rasping, scared, hoarse voice as torturous flames cradled me. All-consuming, flesh-eating, bone-breaking, tissue-decaying agony…until _silence. _Peace that fed into the bliss of no pains, no aches, no chills or ague, not a scar, feet that were whole, no longer damp and pockmarked in the thin worn leather of my abused boots. Fixed, healed, toughened, cast from granite; warm on the inside, cold to the touch of others, my body like a loggia that was self-temperate in all weather.

Then the voracious single-minded allconsuming need to feed! When I came to I was naked, without breeches or even long underwear. I scratched frantically through the cushioning blankets that felt like soft plump hills against my body, down through loam for the one piece of history that linked me home, my grandfather's pocket watch.

"_Mi amore,_ looking for something?'"

The unheralded foreign itch in my throat, a want for the bitter salve of iron, was swiftly overtaken by a racing shiver of desire as I looked at this _woman_. Dressed in only my waistcoat so that the sweet clover hills of her breasts were hardly reined in, her skin opalescent, the blunt cut of the hem shifting with the sound of rough fabric against the damask landscape of her thighs…_Maria._

Tossing my silver timepiece from hand to hand with such speed that it cast streaks of lightning in its wake, Maria sauntered forward. Lust overtook my frantic search! I became a madman, a craving creature!

Effortlessly leaping to my feet, at once astonished at the smoothness of my motions and the distinct lack of chagrin or gentlemanly inclinations, I all but pounced on Maria, my dam. A husky purr burbled out of her throat that she arched into my wide lips as I growled against the impassive length. Ripe like full fruit, but hard as the pit of a peach. Silky as the flesh of a melon, bitter to the taste like green grapes. I began to understand that the flavor of these beasts were part and parcel of their intrinsic personalities.

And that I was a vampire.

My innocence discarded in the field yonder, I darted all over her flush body! Shredded the vest, hurled the watch against the thick canvas sides of the tent, pulled the succulent tips of her breasts between my lips, scraped them with my teeth. On my knees, I gripped her waist-long black hair in one fist and slid two fingers up into the slick-with-venom grotto of her body. Past silky lips. The clip of her breath faltered as she braced one thigh over my shoulder and I held her up with ease.

I discovered that I did not need to breathe.

That I had strength that was beyond that of a hulking workhorse used to long days in the field.

That my passion was a thing of insanity that might never be satiated.

With her buttocks cupped in my hands, sweet rounds, I ducked under Maria and pulled her over my mouth, seeking to slake my thirst.

The taste of her just maddened me more.

She was loud, primitive, wild, and pierced the still, pre-dawn, rosy-grayness with mellifluous shouts of ecstasy when I toppled her to the mats and penetrated her in one even movement.

I was endless, timeless. I had her, strong, hard, vicious, and unendingly. The need was rapacious, a stampede over the vast plains of my body. Later, when Maria pursed her crushing lips over my cock, I pulled the tent down around us amidst her feminine giggles and my hisses.

She did not stop.

"You've earned your keep, _mi amore, _for this day."

She brought me a girl in the afternoon, and watched with delight as I licked my lips. She whimpered as my simple gaze and murmured words of love and hush calmed the wee one, before I laved up and down the crumpet of her throat in preparation. Silenced, supplicant, the woman-child simpered and brought her body readily against mine, her heat a balm to flesh wound of my spirit. Until I carved her neck with teeth that did not belong to me, and crushed her trembling skull clean through with my large hands that held power unbeknownst to me.

Shuddering, sated, disgusted, still hungering, a satyr, I met Maria's eyes that were decades of massacres.

"Yes, my little major, I will keep you." Laden with all that was sinister, the Spanish mistress licked up my thighs and put her succulent mouth to my cock, sinking deep, replicating vivisection with lust. Grappling with her hair, seeking to tear it out, pulse harder into the spiteful spitting and hissing depths of her throat, I ground against her, filled with the blaze of blood and the haze of human silage! Cumming fast and hard, I ripped her off of my erection that was still rigid and placed her pink folds directly over me. Not needful of breath, she still panted. Rings of black darkened her delirious eyes. With her bud between my teeth, tetchy, lapping, languid, Maria shook above me, but could not overpower my newborn strength. In a whisper that licked my lips and ears and chin and throat, she husked out, "You will be the death of me." _Yes, I will._

Bucking up and pulling her down, I entered Maria! My neck arched back and her spine flipped around like a bass on the end of a line. Cries and throaty goring howls rose and sucked in with each splintering lunge. I lugged her up and over and she rose and swirled and teased and sank over my cock; the only other thing I could wish for was blood. A tankard filled with blood.

Quicker, faster, raking, scratching, and screaming like nocturnal creatures, we fucked until she had been over me, under me, in front of me on all fours. Licking, biting, sucking, nipping, crying out!

Needful of sleep yet knowing it was unnecessary, I allowed Maria to guide me out to the start of day where the sun reflected off the surface of my skin like rays on a frozen pond.

All human beings became feed. Fodder. I didn't want ownership of their flesh; I simply needed to consume it.

My ability to soothe and relax, or goad and rile up, incited and inspired Maria.

Like a snake shedding skin, a bird molting its feathers, she changed from flirtatious _femme fatale_ to commander of a newborn vampire army with me at the helm.

_Clip clop._ _Tick tock._

I never saw Caison again, but believed he made it back to my homestead. Stroking my timepiece, I cowered and did Maria's bidding. I became the Major in her army. She was dominant and I knew when to lead, and when to submit. Only at night was I allowed to commandeer her; plowing, prowling, growling, odium and need commingling.

Jealous, greedy, rotten, evil, Maria made me a bad man.

My soul was an empty silo. Grainy images of all the people I killed hunted me. Like the eradicable scars that stained my skin, bites and tears from the recruits I gathered as we took over the southern territories, I was blemished, littered with spumes of wrath and vitriol, ingrained with murder.

The change in my body was only one half of the curse. My drawling voice was more bewitching and my being, my wants, my awakened desires for the twin evils of fucking and feeding hexed me. Memories were like soft cotton garments swaying in the southern breeze, flitting in and out of the line of my vision. A good son, a respected soldier, a churchgoer and believer in God, virtuous, virginal, and in love with Delilah. I had simply wanted to do my best as a militiaman, to make it back to my love in one piece. To make an honorable woman of her.

Instead, an opaque filter of red haze and filth and swill obliterated my history. And the tick tock of my watch carried on, a useless reminder that I would never age and never know a soldier's homecoming. Time was an indifferent bedfellow; lost life was an apathetic companion. Yearning gnawed at me, curled my tongue, and widened my nostrils like a studhorse about to mount a filly whose nether regions and hindlegs quivered in preparation. Time, eating at me, knew no prejudice.

A maimed man, asphyxiated, strangling with irresolute distaste for breath.

Even so, I had her. Made into a sculpture of my former self, I seized Maria's high round immoveable breasts, tore my teeth and spacious lips all over her nipples that hardened yet more into the highest tightest Smoky Mountain peaks. Petite, she was pregnant with diabolical tendencies. I welcomed the distraction from slaughter. I fucked her, but never made love to her.

Jaded, jaundiced.

Of casein and castor oil.

Massacre, slaughter, homicidal assassination.

We took over Mexican regions and Peter became my second in command.

Not as tall as me, he looked every bit of our breed; dark-skinned, black-haired, almond burgundy eyes. Packed with hirsute strength and agile speed. The lashings of his thighs were full slopes of muscle. The breadth of his chest was a continuous ravine to the low breeches he wore, detailing fragments of his ribs, his stomach, and his torso. And further below. I could imagine my palms fitting against his backside, lifting him over me, onto me.

For all his might, he was gentle. A gendarme out of necessity, not because of an integral trait. _Not_ like me.

I was the legionnaire of Maria's newborn armies. Full up with the Midas touch that coupled my ability as a soldier with my skill at forging emotions through the armor of others, I was set apart from the first. Marked.

Drill sergeant. Trainer. Killer.

Cumbersome.

Moribund.

Peter made me feel sonorous, sleepy, drowsy.

As Maria's pawn I was hell bent on pleasing her for fear of chastisement that would flay my body, no longer a pristine thing.

As Peter's lover, I felt nothing more than solace.

The ramifications were high. Maria caught wind of our trysts and watched us guardedly. On the battle ground with heaps of dismembered, disjointed bodies on fire, the year-old militia we had put to rest spilling cold, tungsten curls of smoke around us, I pulled Peter to me and looked for life within him. Plunging my tongue against his, snakebiting his Adams' apple, shaking him out of his vestments, I moaned into his chest. With one hand to my locks and the other hooked over my cock that was a long, hard, straight line in my trousers, strafing against his clasp, Peter growled, "Fuck me, Jasper." Rubbing against his erection with my own, I was lashed into a frenzy of needing to be filled! I pulsed up and down, shucked off my clothes and leaned back to watch as our dicks slicked together, so tough, so male.

Swallowing hard knots of toxin, I gathered his brawny body to mine, laid him down in between the smoking pyres and belted in and out of his tight ass.

"OH! Fuck! Jasper!" He gurgled back half an orgasm and his dick vibrated against my stomach, no longer pale, but purple with need and glazed over, like his inhuman eyes.

The sluice and stipple and juicy tender recess of his ass was magnificence! Stunning and glorious! Smooth, cold, wet, and ready. Inches in, long, long inches in, and seconds, earthbound seconds out. My forearms shook the dirt next to his jet head and he raked sandy tresses out of my face as I hunkered low. Holding the base of his spine in one hand, just above the firmness of his ass, I bore Peter aloft as I hummed, snuck up, and smacked him so hard with my cock inside, my balls outside, that he jerked up like a wooden puppet!

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

It was both of us. My seed sped out and filled the chasm that I had divided. So plentiful that it listed back out down his ropey thighs.

Maria watched us. Jeered and attempted to emasculate me, and screwed me raw at my return. Each and every night. But I held the upper hand. She could not do without me.

I was a slave. And I was starving for her bratty brutality, his limber lightning love.

Slavering.

Enslaved to Peter and Maria. To Peter, for fealty, desperation, and need for communion and devotion. The deep violent violet of his sleepless eyes called to mind the vivid blooms of the calla lilies in my mother's flower bed. To Maria because, in stealing my coagulated blood, she had made me irretrievably hers.

I chose love, in whatever fantastical form it presented itself. Took it, as my right. Pure and sexy and easy, Peter made me innocent.

He was mine first. My brother-in-arms. My lover. Mean-spirited and vengeful of our love, Maria used me like her own personal stallion, her breeder of armies, but I was no longer her _amore._

_Clip clop._

Years were nothing but sex and travel and blood and butchery of the infant infantrymen as soon as they reached their year mark and became useless to us. Charlotte arrived. Sired by Peter, she surprised us both by surpassing me in his affections. The diminutive female became Peter's mate, with her silver-blonde hair like a destroyed glowing halo about her head, and an aged shawl belonging to her grandmother over her shoulder in lieu of wings. The ease of their being made our break natural. Their leaving when Peter understood that Charlotte would not escape Maria's killing spree all but brought me to my knees.

I had him first, but he would be hers until their end.

I redoubled my efforts to shine for Maria, to solidify my standing once again. She branded me a traitor and never forgave my lapse in allowing Peter and Charlotte to make free. As punishment she tasked me with annihilating Nettie and Lucy who had created their own faction, envious of Maria's burgeoning power. At her behest, I beheaded and gutted them. I groveled and ground my head at Maria's feet in wary supplication. My creator, my mother, my dam, my partner, I had no other recourse.

When she laughed at my obeisance, depraved spittle slashing at my downturned face, I knew I would have to raze her to the earth. Or leave.

Although older, Maria was yet smaller, slightly weaker, not as fast, and she was so full of herself that she never considered for one moment that I would obliterate her.

A superior strategist, I used surprise to my advantage. Choosing the tastiest morsel among the transients I had gathered that day, I brought the young man to Maria. As she bared her canines in appreciation, he promptly shat his trousers. We both recoiled at the stench, but her thirst was stronger than disgust. I watched with pleasure as Maria gobbled up her last supper. Once she was replete, I disposed of the carcass. Returning to the cabin that had been fashioned into an opulent den, I found Maria splayed out, sleepy from her indulgence. Shedding my clothes, I lay out on top of her and felt her breasts for the final time. Like quill to inkwell, I dipped into her cunt and cast the dye of her death at the moment of her orgasm. I came as I tore her neck from her shoulders, her arms from her torso, her legs that still twitched in climax from their joining with her pelvis.

A freed man, I was uplifted! Following the Underground Railroad north, seeking out Peter and Charlotte, I made my way over trails, through streams, met up with travelers, watched with confusion the fields of lowing cattle. Along the less walked roads, I picked off the most infirm wanderers, the least likely to make it through another night of trudging. They were not nearly as delectable as fresh young meat. The children, the families, the women, the strapping men and wise elders I left alone, trying to mend my ways.

To Peter. I would never claim ownership over another person again. I did not want one more innocent soul on my hands. Possession was beyond me. Until I met Edward. And I knew, having done nothing more than _be,_ that he was mine as I was meant to be his.

My feet padded lithely along the ground. In three months I had found Peter and Charlotte, nomads who continued to feed from humans. The taste of it had begun to curdle my stomach like milk to butter to rancid cream.

They had no need of me, nor I them. Parting in friendship and fellowship for all we had survived, I took to foot again and criss-crossed back south.

Forty years later, an inveterate itinerant, roving over North America, I came upon the place of my birth. I found nothing more than weeds capsizing the root cellar, a latticework of heirloom roses divesting the rotting skein of the house with their blooms. The graves of my mother, Marilyn Jane Whitlock, my younger brother, James Gregory Whitlock, my father who had died when I was two, Jasper Silas Whitlock, Sr. The sandstone was damp and mossy. Clearing the vegetation, laying down beside my family, I felt one more tombstone laid to earth. Anna Claire Whitlock. My baby sister. I carved her name again with my own digits as hasp. She was born my second year in the war of secession, and died only ten after me.

Alone, I continued to meander over the continent as it was settled. New lines had been drawn, herds of buffalo wiped out, and white man had ruined red man. Immigrants from all across the globe converged on this New World. Amidst it all, I visited Peter and Charlotte often, the sweet summer rainstorm of their love pelting me with spatters of that I could never conceive for myself. I always left them feeling the lack of my other half. I met up with other vampires and learned to laugh when they questioned the gold bullion of my eyes. Discovering strength in solitude, I had learned that animal blood was an apt replacement for that more nectarous civilian flow. Disbelievingly, they shook their heads, the slosh of alizarin swirling about the black of their irises.

Hectares. Decades.

Avoiding wars, I ran from enlistment, and trod north once more. The Wurlitzer replaced the Howitzer. A rampant tinkle of music and melody sent me forward. The Charleston switched with the Jive. Roaring Twenties, Dirty Thirties, the thriftiness of the Depression; they all passed and found me in the Forties.

1948. Philadelphia. A mom and pop diner. Four score and five years after my rising as a vampire brought me to this place, and a singular woman. Propelling around on the bright red leather of the stool, her laughter was soft strokes of tinny music from the coin-fed jukebox in the corner that was sticky with spilled fountain drinks.

Iridescent, sensational, all small but with endless gams, her inky hair was shorn in a manner that would only look becoming on her. One of my own with flesh of aluminum like the heightened seat she swiveled on. A mere speck of a thing with a body that bespoke of all that was woman and supernatural, she was gleeful, giddy, and somehow beaten. Shirking off some sort of dreadful history, just like me, she frothed over like soda water with jubilation as soon as I walked in the chiming door. She would have been a fine flapper!

Feeling like I had been called to her, I was drafted immediately, a rookie up to bat.

Blinking her eyes unnecessarily, lifting and lowering the longest, darkest eyelashes known to man and fidgeting in her seat, this dame smiled gamely at me, held out her alluring hand and simply said, "Jasper, I've been waiting a long time for you."

Lashings of throaty laughter fell out of me! She imbued me with horizons of happiness, thoughtlessly. Easily!

I pulled her off her perch and twirled her about the checkerboard tiles of the greasy spoon. As soon as our bodies met, I had to have her. Know her. Be inside her.

Maybe this was what I was waiting for?

To her bohemian pad, we strolled at a languorous pace. Talk was not necessary. Not yet. The wake of her giggles, the pull of my smiles, our hands entwined lest they wander too far in public, we walked up the steps of her brownstone.

"I'm Alice," it was a claim, a tattoo, and deliverance in just one name that I felt I should have known eighty years ago.

Light shifted and sighs of longing spent like caster sugar shaken out of a sifter.

Inside a brilliant jeweled feminine abode, feeling oddly at home, I watched, silent, as she lowered the lights. Lit candles, chuckled when the flames grew too close. Our garb fell to the floor. Her collarbone was a work of art that I inscribed with my teeth, my mouth.

Purloining the welts and weals on my chest, my ribs and thighs, Alice licked each one to my astonishment! And growing desire. Returning to my nipples time and time again, I finally growled and groped her slim form so that she was pulled to sitting position on top of me. With one soft hand to my cheek, she stated, low like the buzz of bumblebees, "You've had a hard time, my angel."

No more questions. Complete surrender.

In answer I ran my palm from under her thigh up to her ballerina's ankle, and hooked it over my shoulder. Following suit, I did the same with her other leg. A tense, still, quiet second made us silent but for choppy breaths. With Alice's legs lengthened over my chest, the barest of her skin, the backs of her knees pressed down on my nipples, I lifted her by her hips and sat her down upon me, fully.

I'd never been deeper!

With her tiny hands all over my thighs such that her high tits lifted to the heavens we would never know, Alice pulled up and pushed down. Lashing her head to the side, gnawing her lips, crying out, she kept us slow. I put my fingers around one ankle and the other bracketed her hip. Shunting up into her, I watched the spell of this sex spill over her visage that was harder than usual. Her body coiled, her drum-tight tum roiled, her hips rolled down, and my dick was held so tightly in the coldest, darkest reaches fathomable!

Shaking down over me, Alice spiraled desperately. Loosening my grip, I found her shoulders and pulled her down so that I could moan against the blue-purple of her nipples with the pincers of my teeth, the cushions of my lips. Alternating, licking a line between her scant cleavage as we purred together. The toffee of her eyes was caramel and brittle.

Pushing her left leg over my chest, I laid her on her side and continued thrusting. She was underneath me, aside me, belonging to me. The spikes of her soft hair, down by my feet, stabbed my ankles. Coupling her hips in my palms, I yanked her sweltering, icy pussy over my erection, knew her beautiful ass sliding up and down my thighs, felt her heels making slaw of my own paps. She grappled behind her and tugged my ass, stroked my balls and an explosion of chocolate cosmos and citronella geraniums, cedar and salt-water creeks made quick work of our orgasm.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, Jasper!"

"_Mmmm_, FUCK, Alice!"

Minutes, hours, years.

Soldered to one another, Alice and I bided our time. I like to think that we both knew this wouldn't last, though I didn't know that at the time.

She called me her angel, overlooking my whoring, hateful deeds in the name of Maria. _My angel. Mi amore._

Sometimes it was all too close. Suffocating.

Her _piece of living history._

I was still nothing more than a monument to gore. Letting some parts fall aside, I wallowed in the harmony Alice found in me. Basked in her satisfaction. Readily swallowed the glots of her past when she was shunned and locked up by her parents.

Loving Alice with my body, the only way I knew how. Settling her hurt, holding her throughout visions that turned her inside out. Fucking her so hard that all but my name was forgotten, even in her non-stop loquaciousness. Her mighty, tiny arms curled around me, her long slim legs draped over me, the plums of her breasts jostling up and down while I rammed up into her and she sank with vengeance onto my cock over and over and over again. The respite of death, the respire of unheeded breath; the kill of orgasm was one moment that rent asunder past, present, and future.

Alice was flamboyant, garrulous. Fucking her was effervescent. She was my ingénue, but lacking.

I became peeved, hungry for more.

The raiment of years fell about us.

Unable to bridge the guilty gully between love, hate, hurt, soul.

Nothing could ever come together enough to feel whole. Wholesome.

_Clip clop._

We found the Cullens. And it was like returning home. Almost. A large family of vegetarian vampires, I was reminded of the last coven I had lived with; Maria, Nettie, Lucy. All dead, at my hands.

To the charming, relaxed idyll of Charleston, South Carolina and into the welcoming arms of the Cullens' growing dynasty. Gentile, endearing, at ease, the many members as different from each other as human life to undead pillaging. Esme was elegant, soft-spoken, and oddly motherly. Her husband Carl was a man of few, though intelligent, words. He observed, pontificated, led with effortlessness. Burly as a bear, Emmett took everything at face value and was filled with the boyish glow of unbearable jollity! At his side was Rosalie. Glamorous, stately, a starlet. Equal and opposite to her mate, her tongue cut like a razor sharp maxaluna through the bullshit.

Edward.

Edward alone possessed me.

When he opened the large polished oak doors and stepped out onto the portico, I almost fell to the ground. Alice squeaked the tiniest bit as I clawed at her elbow that I held in my hand.

She was all but forgotten.

_God, he looked like a king!_

Slinking out as if he'd just been fucked raw, or needed to be…._by me_, he oozed passionate sensuality. There was something so fantastically post-coital about the way he appeared! A tom-cat prowling alleys, tough, dirty, clean, gritty, graceful, and ready to pounce. Mind blowing!

All eyes swiveled to him, and I wondered at his standing as the lynch pin to this family, how this inherently self-deprecating young vampire-man was holding them all together. I later learned that part of it was due to his one-of-a-kind ability to read minds. All but mine.

Shortly, I discovered that he was part of an ancient Volturi prophecy.

Arrogant, as he should be. Beautiful, handsome, utterly masculine. Lust crested off of him like a tsunami and felt nearly as devastating as my own!

A noose that would tighten around my throat like a suicidal tendency in wrecking search of the highest orgasm.

Otherworldly, unlimited, this immediacy, this eminence was comparable to nothing I had ever felt myself or through anybody else! It was then and now, nothing and forever, all at once, all of a sudden!

As if strung out in stocks, I stood immobile as immortality, my jaw tightened, something tasty was stuck to my tongue. Edward's scent; enticing, titillating, torturing me.

Even Alice couldn't have foreseen this, otherwise she wouldn't have led me here…_would she?_

I watched Edward's appreciation of my body as the unrefined ore of his eyes snookered, not at all clandestine, up my thighs that were bowed out from years of riding, my forearms that were keen to his gaze, to my throat that was nude to his introduction.

Looking to Alice, I saw her glance at Edward before she became a rigid column at my side.

From her to him, I was transposed. Handed off. That is how it felt in my heart that no longer beat.

Quirking my head to the side so that my burnished shaggy locks brushed the broadcloth covering my shoulders, I introduced myself, and Edward followed the motion of my mouth, "How do you, Edward?" Holding my hand out, not letting it shake, maintaining an outward coolness, I waited to feel the first touch of his skin on mine.

I'm sure I gasped. My innards spun and dizzied! The trembles I had been fighting made my fingers fidget inside the clasp of his large, long-fingered hand. His desire multiplied exponentially and made my stomach hitch and my cock twitch deliriously.

Nervous as hell, I brought my fingers straight down to the pseudo soft flesh at the juncture of his palms. Stroked, fingered. I wanted to gauge his reaction. I was not disappointed.

Seemingly unable to control himself, Edward dismissed us with a firm nod and filtered back into the house. Taking sunlight with him.

We remained outside. Chatting. Getting to know the lay of the land. Only Alice's stillness alerted me to movement above where I saw Edward pressed against the second story window. Knowing she could see visions played out, mine and his, I wondered what caused her to be so provoked that she would hiss under her breath. Enraged, she calmed to my gentling touch, composed and sure of herself, of my affection. She shouldn't have been, because I averted my eyes above again and met Edward's look with carnal want of my own. I unsettled him with a smirk and a wink.

Once inside the sympathetically restored plantation house, Edward's activities were immediately apparent to all.

I joined Emmett in joking and jesting and tried to jerk attention away from the man that scrabbled with his cock above, wishing only that I could see him in the act of masturbating.

Tearing down the walls in the cascade of his climax, Edward hollered out, "Oh _fuck_! Oh, J…_Jesus_," and I knew that my name was on the cusp of his tongue.

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**A/N: If you liked this in any way imaginable, I would love to hear from you. **

**The second part of this chapter will be up Sunday night at the latest.**

**If you like my writing and wanna' check out something waaaay different, head on over to the AU Double Wide of my heart; **_**Dead Confederates.**_** About all I can promise you is heaps of dirty laughter, piles of beauty, and Edward, Jasper, and Emmett (not to mention Bella and the rest of the crew) as you've never seen them. Go on, put a little **_**south in your mouth.**_

**Finally, I have joined the Twilight 25. A fab contest hosted by beautiful queenofgrey. I will be posting my 25 drabbles or oneshots on FF. You can alert me and watch out for the new story. I will make you laugh, possibly cry, and most definitely get hot. There might even be a sublime sigh in there. Come play.**


	3. Invested

**Disclaimer: I own part three of Incarcerated, and whatever may or may not happen between Edward and Jasper. SM owns all that other stuff.**

******WARNING: This is DARK…SLASH…And MORE*******

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**Three: Invested**

**Jasper POV**

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In the beginning, Edward hid away from me. Cordoned himself off, kept himself closeted in the cell he called a room. But I would not have that. Ever the sadist, I sought his company. The struggle to keep my hands to myself, to restrain them from pulling his luxuriant head over my chest and between my thighs became easier, _and infinitely more difficult._ We were equally bound, beholden, yearning, frantic, but tethered to circumstances that were beyond us.

My loins ached. My forever-halted heart wept.

_Edward_. Edward walked with a lope. Strolled with a purpose. Stole my breath the moment he had exited those heavy, aged front doors.

Like an outcrop, his firestorm hair flattened and flattered and raucously burned atop his head; the mane of a lion.

An animal myself, I heard his hungry call at once.

In my presence, longing made white rapids of his skin, death-dealing currents of his flesh. A hard stone protrusion of his dick.

Smelling of sea, creek, silt, and riverbed; indecent but uncontaminated.

Just like me.

I had been about this business much longer than him; I knew that Edward was troubled, worried, anxious, and innocent but not one bit naïve. Never gullible.

Copper, shimmery, shifting like a chimera, a stallion pawing dust and salvia patches, Edward called to mind Caison. Muscles clamping, rippling, daunting; a majestic mount. Sleek and fast, of might and scant withheld passion, Edward was a creature bred for one purpose only. To be mine.

Through games of chess, hours spent reading in the library, a litany of music, scratchy antiquated records on his gramophone; we met in silence, mostly.

Using my skill that I could scarce turn off, I mined the deep, subterranean river of his untapped, ferocious infatuation. Like an oil well that I wanted to unearth and drill into, I clambered over the rocky headlands of his desire for me.

Seated in a deep, leather armchair, warming his bare toes at the bender of the fireplace at the beginning of a multi-hued autumn, Edward closed his book and grinned at me, "I know what you're doing, Jasper." Relaxed, indolent as if from a fresh fuck, Edward laid the side of his face against the winged leather, "And I don't think it's fair, seeing as I can't read your mind, honey."

My stomach turned over and lurched at that word from his lips that looked like a well-rendered, crimson dais!

Pandora's Box opened. Another dimension. Having bitten from the apple, I fell.

We walked the forest trails. Our hands but mere inches apart. The distance a gap that tingled with possibilities.

Edward told me of his misdeeds, not a guilty man. Sensing his unease at the fact he could never remember his mother, I shared with him what genealogy I had recalled over and over to no one but myself. My mother, my brother, and the sister I had never known.

I drawled slowly and let us both languish in human memories that had never seen the light of day.

As I talked of Delilah, my sweetheart and would-be lover, Edward grew increasingly gloomy. Under the shadows of the canopied trees, he frowned, and I hid my smile behind a cupped hand as I looked aside. Angered that my first love was a woman and fully aware that I was now mating Alice, Edward came to the conclusion, wrongfully, that there was clearly nothing in my regard of him besides brotherly devotion.

The damp amber of his extinguished eyes lit anew when I told him of Peter. And how I had relinquished him.

This was a dastardly line to walk, one that made quick work of my cock and hash of my brain. Formerly forthright and bold, Alice was slowly unraveling the more time I spent with Edward. Instead of blooming around me like jasmine, she clung to me, a vine laden with cloyingly rotten blossoms. Fruit that was decaying, leaves that moldered. Moth-bitten, we were on the downward spiral.

A possessive wildcat, this was not my Alice. Fickle as fate, love fled and pierced its true unerring mark. All the while, Alice was fucking me ravenously! Edward heard us, that much was certain. I could feel his hurt that never sparked to hate. Helpless to stop, hopelessly looking for a slipstream to guide me to him alone, I was in her, over her, around her, and angry with what I could not have!

Haunted, I didn't blame Alice.

Hating, I would never find Edward culpable.

Hunted, I took it all in and bore it as a man of pride.

Both Alice and I now understood that we weren't meant to be forever. And that Edward made it so. But I could not go until Alice released me, I owed her that much at least.

_Clip clop._

Another month, maybe two. From afar I loved him the only way I could, with every ounce of my debased being. For the first time. For the last time.

I coveted Edward. My heavy eyes became creosote in his company. And of course what I first saw as his conceit was at best a mask for the century of loneliness while all those around him paired up. I wanted to alleviate that everlasting ache.

Weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds sucking the life out of me, replacing it with fantastical dreams.

Strolling the hallway, in search of something or other, _or Edward_, I came upon his door that was slightly ajar. Peering inside, I gasped and was arrested by the vision of him standing tall, possessed, stroking his gloriously long-veined erection. Fisting harder, he beckoned me, with curt words bade me close the portal behind me.

There was no embarrassment here, just pure sex.

Leaning against the door and wanting to tear open my pants to pull my own raging dick out so that I could stroke it up and down and over his, I grabbed the doorknob and the upper molding in order to stay put.

Even so, my hips jerked in rhythm to the thrusts of his cock within his fingers.

Strangling the roar that almost ripped out of my throat, my eyes narrowed on him. There was nothing like Edward's hands on his own flesh…I felt honored, eroded, depraved! _This was the damn sexiest thing I had ever seen!_

Steely hard, he was on the verge of explosion.

Bruising himself, he licked his lower lip, lowered his eyes to the bulge at my crotch and gave one final, endless tug that made glycerin, thick, sweet, yellow liquid erupt from the tiny opening at the head of his dick!

"Oh god, _Jasper!"_

I'd been waiting too long to hear that.

It hit the floor, his lowered jeans, fell upon his hands, and through it all he glowered and his face furrowed and his cheeks caved in and his mouth opened and he looked me straight in the eye.

Somehow capable of movement, I bracketed one hand against the killer erection that was a titan in my trousers, and made my way to Edward. With one hand on his chest, I cupped my other around his balls and gathered the cum that had laced its way below. Brought it to my lips and savored his flavor before backing out his room.

_Tick tock._

Alice was heathenish.

In the verdant tassled forest, Edward was Pan, lethal and lonely in the fallow fen. And I was Puck. We were truth and purity, gallivanting capers and bad luck.

Playing, joking, taunting, talking, I wanted to scream out to Edward, "_How could you think that I don't love you, CRAVE you, your skin twisting beneath mine…I am only a man!"_

With Edward, I would be everything and nothing. Fresh and young and sinister, brother, lover….friend, helpmeet. There would be no pigeon-holing.

I had been the enabler in every codependent partnership. A passing whim, a needed fling, a most fortuitous mate, a touch of consolation. Always, it now felt, with subterfuge and ulterior motives.

Unlike all the rest, this wasn't simply the free-flowing give of tranquility, carnality, body, brain, talent, skill. This thing would be transcendent! Above and beyond all emotions. The _truth_ of peace. The utter _absence_ of worldly turmoil. The _essence_ of lust. The very _birth _of need! The exact _limitlessness_ of want.

_Every damn thing_ to such a degree that our open admission, our loving and fucking and mating would be an explosion outwards. An implosion inwards. A vortex spinning out and a Black Hole sucking in. The end of all days and all things that we previously knew.

Days reversed. I owed everyone more than I could pay. I wanted more than I was allowed to take.

My watch stopped and foundered, then sped up.

_Clip clop._

We were at the creek, Edward and I.

I wore just a beaten leather vest and low jeans. He was in a simple, worn, button down and abused dark trousers.

Our feet were bare.

My grandfather's timepiece ticked on, grounding me, goading me to move forward.

Lengths of time. With legumes of greenery, the lush of rigid ligaments, the flush of seen ligature, a liturgy of flesh littered by scars and emboldened.

Shucking off my clothes, I waded out and watched Edward. Wanting nothing more than for him to touch me, love me, kiss me, hit me, hate me? LOVE me, _need_ me.

His proud cock stood hard and straight like a lickable pole, and I gagged to feel that rod in my hands, to reel it closer and closer to my tongue. As he undressed, I wanted to take Edward from behind – _Oh God, totally naked!_ – as he clawed and heaved and crawled against the grass with the force of my lunges! My hair a golden lariat that he would wind around his built wrists as he rose up and his back beat against my chest!

Instead I told him, "I could leave you alone, Edward," I felt flat at the thought. My famished eyes made a liar of me.

"Don't," his sun-bitten, raided voice warned.

I should have known that the dance of our swim, like sleek dolphins, over, around, gliding but never fully touching, was his goodbye.

Two days later, I leaned over the spring blades of the pelt of St. Augustine's and licked him from collar bone to his square Artesian jaw.

He ran.

Catching up with him at the far end of the wooded alley, I pulled his hands and wrapped them around my waist, pushed my cock to his, grappled with his shirt front, in need of skin.

"You're leaving," my whispered, weary words were fact.

He nodded his head, looking anywhere but in my eyes that glowed with limp wishes.

I made bold and played my hand over his cheek so that I knew how his beautiful face felt there. I swiped my thumb beneath his eyes and brushed those longest eyelashes.

Dying inside, I placed my head against his wide shoulder and listened as words rumbled from his chest, "You know everything I feel, every minute of every day, _and all night long_ while you fuck your wife down the hall_._" Edward paused to smile sadly, horrifyingly _accepting_ these circumstances! With a light kiss to my cheek, his discordant voiced croaked out, "But I don't know what you think of me."

Quickly pulling out my fob watch, I grabbed Edward's hand and the slim crescent moon of my lips was a downturned thing. Placing the only belonging I had any right to give onto his palm, I curled his fingers over it, like tungsten armor to keep this memorial safe, I said goodbye to my past and my heart.

Mutely, I met his eyes as his fingers rained over the Braille of the new engraving. Hushing his pursed lips with my ginger fingers, I denied him words and shook my head.

"Just go. Just…_know._"

Stealing back, stealthy and formed of steel, Edward ceased to be. An ivy-white flash of light that told of swiftness and bygone eras, I whispered, "I love you."

_A deadened heap. Clip clop. Tick tock._

Three fucking months incised my skin, tore out my entrails. We all waited and paced and cursed and were quietly hurting for our Edward, that man that was the essential element to every goddamned thing.

I ached for him…a toothache, a cavity, a stomachache. My wounds itched and needed massaging. Not by Alice. An abscess, my terror. An abbess, Alice's love that would never, ever be enough again.

Our grounds were like a dormant churchyard.

A glimpse, a gander, a sight, a feeling; from Alice I understood that there was a loophole.

Upon a grave day, a dreaded day, Alice came to me as I spritzed the orchids, dead bouquets that needed resurgence, in the greenhouse that I had repaired under Esme's guidance.

The curse had taken a turn for the worse. There was no more comfort to be found here, not for me. And the end of all our days was nigh.

Little hands making home out of my features one last time, Alice covered the sharp plains of my cheekbones and dragged me closer. I saw every chaotic emotion in her bleak, doppled eyes; I hated her, loved her, wanted to meet our end together, but needed Edward more. Shrugging off my riotous clamor, Alice sucked my lips, leant back and soothed as only she could, "Goodbye, my angel."

Love was surrendered. Our lips lashed one last time, hers digested mine. Silent, dry sobs wracked my woman against me. Like a ship torn apart at sea. The hull shattered.

_She should have let me go sooner!_

Never.

At this closing, I said goodbye to _my girl_. And _that_ she was once more. Unheard and unseen tears tracked down our cheeks and into our gaping mouths, invisible misery.

"You are his, go to Edward," the harp of her voice was no more than discordant, broken strings.

I was leaving Alice in just the same manner as I had left Delilah, as Peter had left me**.**Limber premonition made me know that, exactly true, I would never see Alice again.

Lumbering away from my woman, my mate, my keeper, on unwieldy legs, I felt the flush of flight overtake me!

We would be lucky to survive four hours. We were all going to perish, and this was the only way we could be together.

I yelled as soon as I was in hearing distance, frantic and crazed, "_EDWARD!"_

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**Thank you V.**

**Dead women, a thousand thanks and laughs belong to you!**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

**One more chapter (at least) to come.**


	4. Incarcerated

**I have this gorgeous beta, her name is V. As of late she often shouts in her cute Chicagoan accent, "RIE!!!" I know I make you insane, so thanks.**

**Disclaimer: The men in the south, mine. Twilight? SM's.**

**~~Let's get on with it. A/N at the bottom~~**

******WARNING: This is DARK and this is slash*******

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**Four: Incarcerated**

_**And thus it ends.**_

**Edward**

_~~ll~~_

Startled from reverie, I came to.

In need of numbing forgetfulness, I had pulled myself down into a passive trance, my thoughts turning fanciful. Less dreary images floated through me, dreamily reminiscing of what it would be like were Jasper and I mortal men instead of doomed vampires bound to walk disparate paths that led away from each other. To be human, in love, and for that love to be returned with the promise of a just life instead of a history of death and curses and beasts and blood spilling.

To marry. To be accepted. Liberated, and allowed to have our own family.

I reproved myself by the minute, hour, second. That fucking everlasting, nonstop _tock tock tock_ of time tarried its torture over me. With no hope for improvement from this chaste lonely waste of death that was my existence, I embraced agony instead of the man I loved.

That fucking silver pocket watch taunted me! Pounding out seconds that leaked more and more time that kept us apart.

Even under hallucinatory visions, I fingered the engraving as I held the heft of its metal in my palm.

**_Wait._**

Still engorged with rage, venom, jealousy, spite, and hurt, I wanted to toss it off the elevated pavement of the Battery with its surrounding mansions and sightseeing families who plagued my lonesomeness. The used-up Civil War cannons seated behind me in White Point Gardens only reminded me more of _him_. The tidal surge that was both salty and fresh and just over the railing compelled my fist to let go the souvenir.

_How dare he?_

I hated Jasper.

**_Wait_.**

Was that a fucking joke?

It wasn't even a question.

I had no choice in the matter. There was no other. There never would be.

His soft strength so entirely masculine, untidily bound to Alice.

Once coupled, once chained to another, the vampire union was prophesied to be unbreakable. Was that Alice for Jasper? My last few months at the plantation, Alice had distantly accepted my partiality for her mate. Knowing that she could sense some variation on the future, I surmised absolutely nothing from her courteous dealings with me, but I suspected her actions were deceptive and defensive. Her continued bitchiness would only botch her relationship with Jasper, because he truly did have feelings for me.

Or maybe it was just blind hope, on my part.

They still fucked rampantly, causing me to growl and pace while sorely abused and achingly aroused for my man. Unspeakably enraged by their odious ardor.

From our initial meeting, when the dusty, musky, manly, soil-sea scent of him had flared my nostrils and hardened my cock, Jasper had known _everything_ I felt. Proud of bearing, I faced him head on, him and his luscious mouth grinning in expressive, innate understanding.

Gallant and principled, Jasper kept my secret but made his perception clear to me.

I was too far gone to be ashamed.

Only through his companionship that I first denied did I feel…_alive_! My skin wept, my flesh triggered into chills, my fingers itched, and my brain imagined every permutation of me and him together, naked and nubile and so fucking strong against one another.

The smell of him incinerated my being!

Conversations with him incited me. Jasper interested me like no other. Tasting my pain at the forgotten loss of my mother and father, he replayed his own past, the origin of his markings, the beautiful remembrances of his mother, Marilyn Jane, and his affianced Delilah. The mere mention of a feminine name twined with his made me scowl, lower my eyes, and tear up chunks of the grass we reclined upon.

Then he spoke of his first true lover, Peter. My stilled heart raced with the possibilities!

Sharing his lives with me, Jasper unwittingly snared me further until I could no longer think straight.

Even just sitting with him in a hushed room was an easy, homey pleasure. His erudite homilies enchanting.

Our days were spent in the library, swimming in the creek with his long shaft as a buoy, being teased and tempted in the bower, and making a friend when all I wanted was untenable and unattainable was the most exquisite affliction. I should have at least known chagrin that he had watched me getting myself off in my bedchamber, but I did not.

Jasper had tasted my cum.

The trial of being an _ami_, attempting and failing miserably at remaining lighthearted raised me and dashed me all at once.

When he had made a heated trail up my throat with his tongue, I had no choice but to leave. Running blindly to the copse of green and swamp, away from Jasper and the blitzkrieg of emotion he caused to riptide through me, I mumbled as I distanced myself. Only falling to my knees when I heard his whisper rumbling, "_I love you._"

Now I had his heirloom watch and a mash of memories that I stole up into future longing.

I wanted him to be my beau.

Tall and strong, so fucking blond and lion-like, a predator, a hunter; a warrior, a weapon. The wealth of his mane made a shivering mess of me just through recollection, and it was not just Jasper's tantalizing body. It was his power of emotion, his affection, his steadfast wit, his own feeling that made him bare his soul to show his life to me. Even, abhorrently, the manner in which he would not leave Alice.

I had to admire his devotion

A man of pride. Honor. Fortitude. Truth and beauty.

Instead of becoming a better person for him, I hid and licked my wounds.

I should have flung myself to the far reaches of the earth!

I couldn't. I had to know that Jasper was only minutes away. I was weakened. All the while my defiant unrequited love sat like the bitter taste of tannin at the back of my tongue.

_~~ll~~_

Now, holed up in downtown Charleston, ruffled pastel azaleas erupted their blooms, the first of the spring's bountiful perennials.

Jasper remained a chunk of carbon compacting into a diamond within my soul.

Not a whim, never a silly notion, not a passing fancy or dalliance.

This waiting was a hellish limbo.

These were the Ides of March.

In like a lamb, out like a lion.

Power had shifted; I felt it in my wearied bones. My ability to see through the falsehoods into the mind's eye of everyone in my vicinity, my power was meant to be a security blanket, keeping the Volturi at bay. No more. Tides turned, anarchy was alive and well in Volterra. I was to be the Crown Jewel to their stone towers. They would destroy all in their path, even obliterate their immaculate reputation to gain the feats of my mind, so I was satisfied that I had made the way to me clear and unhindered.

I would meet my curse alone, as befitted a bastard such as myself.

At least the others were safe in their stronghold, three clicks northwest and two rivers removed from my hellhole.

My own keep was nothing like the Cullen Plantation on the Ashley River. With one measly dollar, I became the owner of the Old City Jail, situated centerpoint in downtown Charleston. I lived amongst the squalor of government housing, Gullah fish-fries, and worn clothing hanging from the line. Corner shops were sheltered beneath shutters in case of gunshot that crackled across streets. People were carjacked daily.

I certainly was not worried about the dangers of my surrounds.

If I turned the corner and went two blocks down I was folded into jasmine and hidden grottoes of sago palm, fountains and stone palaces that spoke of filthy new money bought on credit, and antique Antebellum inheritors that had owned this land preemptive of the most uncivil war.

Brother pitted against brother.

I wanted Jasper with all my dead soul as the gates of hell fired pure odorous brimstone into my nostrils.

Most decidedly _not_ as my brother.

My home, the Jail was a squat, square structure footed and shouldered by four tall towers. Of crumbling stone, new cement, the rotten timber casements riddled by insects' eggsacks, there was a gallows tree in the yard and an iron prison of a wagon that had formerly shuttled prisoners to marketplace for heckling and jeering. In the good old days.

Purported to be haunted, housing rumrunners and pirates, serial murderers and the infirm of mind, I was the disturbed monster that stalked its unlit hallways now. Incarcerated of my own free will. Ascetically furnished with the barest of necessities, light lacked through the dim, dusty windows of this falling-to-pieces fortress.

Just like me.

Scurvy-infested citadel. Infected and diseased mind. Wastrel spirit.

There was only one thing I wanted; to die completely, for fucking ever. Ending this non-life. _Or to be with Jasper._ Forever.

I had not fought a war, but I was about to. Becoming quarry from predator. The far-reaching, death-dealing arm of the Volturi neared.

My time had come.

Time to meet my maker, the marker of doom, my nemesis, the grim reaper amongst fields of callow wilting cotton. The leaves were eaten by grasshoppers the size of my thumb.

This, _this_ is what unending non-life had made of me.

A beast. A man. An ancient. A boy. A hungry fiend. More than blood, I wanted Jasper. More than my grave pelted beneath rocks and filthy soil that would keep me under forever, I _needed_ him.

I was lifted from my daydream of living at large with Jasper as my human husband by the heavy cast knocker on the huge wooden portal below.

Once, twice, thrice.

Then again with impatience, the force of the hand behind the striking almost beat the planks asunder.

I squashed a scurrilous scurrying palmetto bug underfoot as I made my doomed way to the portcullis. Giving up a satisfying _squelch, _it was the size of a clacking fiddler crab in the muck of the marsh. Hit my boot doubly against the composite steps to loosen its hold under my boot.

The soot and silt on my sole was caked with putrid insect innards.

Pale red light of fire exits glowed like fiery apparitions and shadowed down the staircase in the dead of this night.

_Jesus._

_He's here._

Rain was shredding leaves off the live oaks outside as a portentous wind ripped limbs and rasped branches against the thick leaded pane of the Jail's windows.

I stopped at the double doors. Wide lathes of decaying wood clasped in tarnished hinges, a huge heavy metal deadbolt, and a large rusty handle that had seen better days was all that held us apart.

Hoping. Dreading. Halting.

I felt him on the other side, his impatience. And…_longing._

Caressing the timber with my long fingers trembling, my flesh wept at thoughts of him so close. Venom-like sweat dripped between the palisades of my shoulder blades. My black t-shirt stuck to my back. My parched throat hungered for his cock.

Turgid with want. Torrid. Immediately and enormously aroused. I rubbed my erection against the unyielding aperture that estranged us and moaned. Rolled my hips left and then right and then crushed tight, seeing him so close, imagining that it was his own flinty hard cock that I was rolling across with my own. Stark, white dick throbbing with pulsing toxin that made blue rivers amongst pure, arctic planes. Full to bursting. Leaking and humid.

On the outside, I heard the whisper hush of his hand. Meeting mine across the barrier. He had heard me, knew I was here.

Steeling myself, I slowly opened the door on its whinging mechanism.

Jasper stood outlined by the streetlamps, with both arms braced to either side, his head held high. I squinted and took in all of his masterful resplendent stature. Glowered at him from inside even while I wanted to jump across the threshold and into his embrace.

Paralyzed by fear and want and loathing, I caught the door as it swung wide, and hesitated on the precipice of everything I wanted, touched by the grave.

He looked grim.

Grimy and hopeful and overtly torn up by the sadness of his many, many decades.

My resolve was failing. My heart fleeting.

Finding voice, I beat out like jagged razors cutting skin, "I don't want a friend, Jasper. So unless you came here to be mine, to give me what I need – a man, a mate, _you_ – just walk away now." Expecting him to leave at my insolent statement, I broke back, turned heel, but then thought better of it.

Pulling the chiming timepiece from my pocket, glaring at it, wanting the sentiment to be real, I shouted rancorously, "And you can take this damned thing with you!" Throwing his beloved watch to the grime-splattered floor, we both watched it bounce, clatter, and then stop.

Too many months had passed. My knuckles paled and curled and I felt like I was dying one more time.

The clockwork faded, inside.

He didn't balk or blench. Jasper was a silky handsome roadweary picture of sunbursts and harvest moons against the black night that caressed his back.

Our eyes met, turbulent gold to fossilized amber.

"You know we're going to die, right?" Jasper finally spoke.

I sneered; he had taken too much, "_Ha!_ I am long gone!"

Stepping inside, uninvited, Jasper stood tall against me and lifted my chin. "They're here, Edward."

I jerked out of his hold when I caught quick flashes of a fantastical be-cloaked battle taking place. _Alice._ She was now near enough to see us, to pull me into her head.

_Jesus Fucking Christ!_

I tried to shove Jasper back out the door! Beating him with my fists that he just captured in his hands, I would never be fast enough to overwhelm his strategic mind.

_He has to leave! They all have to go. NOW!_

Unraveling like the woolen story of the Bayeux Tapestry, Alice's reels continued to stroll over me like the historic invasion of Normandy. Our D-Day. Except, we knew what was coming to us.

_Why didn't they leave?_

With the horizon, upon dawn, they would come. The Volturi. And none of us were safe.

Fractious, fucking insane, I beat against Jasper's tight grip, foul and frightened for his life!

I didn't give a shit about myself. Despised my desperate past. I had crawled headlong into the demonic cavern of my future. Death would be far kinder than this terrifying solitude I had lived. This un-fucking-ending interlude.

But not at this cost.

Oh, I wouldn't just hand myself over. Lusting after a fight, I would bare my canines, rip into their vellum skin, coil around them, eat them, tear them apart, and thrust my curled fingers into their viscera until I was up to my knuckles in their ashes and dust and carbide skeletons. I fidgeted beneath the need to fight, even if I had no will to survive. If I could kill enough of them, perhaps I could save my family. The rest would be my comeuppance. Just desserts, a crypt from which I would never rise again.

_If only Jasper would get the hell out!_

It was useless. Fruitless. Every strategy I tore through like limp muslin curtains was dashed by Alice's thoughts. Nothing would sway them. Nothing would stop them.

From miles away, I heard them, my family. Beseeching me to stay away. To let them meet this doom on their own, to stave off the armies. To let them gift me this man, and at least a few hours of respite, together. Esme wept tears that would never exist. Not over the forthcoming ending, but that she would cease to be without saying goodbye to me. That she would never embrace me again. Carlisle silently tried to convince me that my soul was a winged thing that would take flight. That the heavens would forgive me, and that we would all meet again.

_In time._

Would we?

I didn't want to.

I had hurt them too much.

There was only one I wanted to meet the scraping, knocking, scratching call of the Reaper with.

And he was here.

Hopeless.

Shipwrecked.

Castaways.

Less than days. Scant hours. Coils of mortality for the immortal. Finality. Begetting eroticism and denying the forlorn.

I was starving. Strafing from hunger to wretched wrath and back again.

Could I do this?

Would I accept this gift that was not mine to take?

"You should go back to your wife," I felt the bile rise and shoved it down with a ramrod to the barrel of a musket. They were going to end, and his last moments should be with her. Hateful. Noxious. Spleen. I unleashed him, liberated him, and gave Jasper my own helping of humility.

Shaking his head in denial, gilded tassels of loose curls coiling in the air that was filled with slight motes of starlit specks, he carved out in a whisper boiling with thankfulness and solemnity, "Alice has always known, Edward. She gave me leave," self-deprecating and somber, "Claiming that she's had me on borrow for more years than she should have taken." A murmur of shushed volumes arched out his mouth that was to the side of my neck and I enclosed him in a pure hug. Acknowledging the loss of another, his sorrow, my bereavement, my appreciation for the sprite that had bestowed me these hours with the man I loved.

In the blink of an eye, with slaughter too fucking close, I was desperate once more to repeal Jasper!

_He could live!_

Sobs and hurt and scorn and denial and trying to blaze past him to deliver myself, to do one fucking thing on this earth with pride and righteousness, I sought to propel him away!

Blocking the door, Jasper stopped my suddenly revived storming, "This is what they want, Edward."

There was no smile, no joking; just bleak wisdom. Man to man. On the very narrow ledge above purgatory. With angels fighting our battle.

_How could love like this be so fucking futile?_

Capitulating, I pulled Jasper further inside, took him by his hand up to the second floor where I had bedded down to un-sleep and disregard.

I had come here to escape _him, _seeking a separate peace that never came_._ To lead the Volturi to me alone, to keep my family safe! And they were running to the forefront of the fray.

So that I might have Jasper?

Beholden, angered, too many emotions racked me.

Incensed denial was high.

Eviscerating rage made me manacle his wrists, thick and ropey with muscle and blue-venomed veins – just the touch of them made me cower back into a semblance of humanity -- to the square, patterned, wrought iron gate of the cell I called my bedroom. Within my stronghold, rough hewn flesh, I licked his palms and watched his eyes redden. Ready. An echo of mine. His halo was tarnished, sopped in mildew. Just as mine.

"I would rather die than have them do this," I whispered a crushed thing against his ear and the wheaten locks that framed the uncovering shell.

It was inevitable; wheels had been put in motion. The Volturi chose this moment to attack precisely because I had broken off on my own. Had Iremained with my family this would never have happened!

At the sober smile etching his plump wet pink lips, I lifted my head. Jasper winked his strobing, bullion eyes, "I'd rather you lived, _love_, at least for a little while."

Even while I taloned and clawed and denied him escape, I felt older, wiser, stronger, sadder, more sick, more tainted, more hurt, more raped by this _never, never, never_. I dared Jasper, too close to his cherubic mouth; the ghosts around us held their breath, as did I. I could just lick those curves that were a severe smile, an ellipse, an incantation. Swollen and tight and worried and wondering and fearful and needful.

"You are not mine." I meant it and compressed him further to the chamber.

"I will always be yours." He leant low into my lips with a kiss that was both searing and endearing.

Finally, _finally_! To taste him on my tongue, to feel him with my teeth, swirling inside his mouth and licking every slick, pink surface with all the love and pointlessness of everything about to happen, I moaned, moving my head sideways for dearer purchase. Punched in the gut by divine deep-seated desire, I dove closer to Jasper.

Tremors crackled all over me, my lips trembled to be this close, this close_, this close_ to his mouth.

Denying the knowledge that Jane and her sick whey-faced little piece of shit sidekick Alec were closing in, I shut my mind to all but this moment, this man.

Enormous, unutterable carnage made me feast upon Jasper like a famished man.

A heartful optimistic beat pulsed through me. I let loose my cuffing hands, folded my fingers to his long-roughened digits. Linked, in another manner.

And I cast them away, just at his caress and kiss. Emmett, Rosalie, Esme, Carlisle, and Alice.

I took what they gave.

The notch of my breath grew choppy. I nudged his mouth with mine, groaning into his feathery licks. Our biceps rubbed together as t-shirts were pushed up to our shoulders, hands held tight and extended and high up in the bars of the cage I'd pulled him into. The undersides of our forearms sampled each other, our hips aligned when Jasper crooked his knees just a might, and our stiffened cocks scrolled designs through cloth barriers.

Slender, soft, supple, solid. I shifted just to the side and hissed as our erections took up parallel lunges, feeling him so fucking long and broad through his trousers rasping against my shaft.

Sucking in a stunned breath, I grated out, "Christ, Jasper!" as my mouth tackled the gloriously muscled reach of his throat and the taut highway where his neck met shoulder, nicking, sucking, nibbling.

Whimpering and grinding harder, the hurt on my face turned to a frown of furious lust! Releasing his grip, I grabbed the back of his sweet damp neck, clasping fine wires of gold curls that waved there, shoved my other hand into the back pocket of his jeans and brought him completely against me. He was so hard, so right, so insanely every fucking thing that I never known could be mine!

Turning a circle, it was if we were dancing. Knees dipping, hips swiveling, lips opening to growls, tongues, soft budding flesh of red tasting wholly! He shredded my shirt up the back, his callused hands shearing through fabric like knife to butter.

Over the dips and hills of my quivering sinews, into my spine, fingering the dimples just above my buttocks, he paved his way over my skin that cried like my voice, salivating and glorying, "Fucking hell, Jasper!"

Another smile spread his lips over mine at my outburst.

Shanks of laughter trembled us together until I one-handed the very stiff cock in his jeans. His head jerked to the side and a chuckle died in his throat, turning into a lusty deep purr.

"Oh, god, _Edward."_

There were so many things I wanted to do to this man, there was so fucking little time left.

I scowled, smirked, simpered over the enormous icy shard that charred my palm. Longer, thicker, _GOD so fucking big!_, his erection beat and I needed to feel the living glacier of it. Skin, bare skin.

There was no justice that could keep us alive.

This seraph was going to meet his maker.

At my hands?

_My love._

Planting my palms on Jasper's trim chest, I pushed him back. With one hand, I unseamed his shirt, top to bottom straight down the middle, and pulled the hanging cotton fabric wide, running my hands over the tight drum flesh of his abdomen, up over his pecs that were mouth wateringly sexy, pressed my thumbs into his dusky nipples and took them into my mouth. Pluck, pluck, plucking the niblets rising under my tongue. Grabbing hanks of my hair, Jasper held me in place, arched his neck and growled, "Edward, _Jesus!_"

Sliding one strong rough hand down into the back of my pants, he cupped my buttocks and rubbed and strolled two fingers down the cleft over my puckered hole and lower to gently fondle my sac. Each sensually dire motion moved me over his erection, and I needed to see him entirely naked before the thick, quick run of poison in my cock spilled completely.

His top fell from his ropey shoulders with the barest whisper of my tapered fingers. His hands still held my ass in a tough grasp. Ridiculously starved, I held air in my lungs as I yanked his buckle free, smoothed the flat of my hand over that huge bundle of flesh beneath the placket, and pulled the metal buttons open. It took both my hands to grip his cock fully and lead it out of the shelter of coarse cloth.

Velvety smooth with broad veins, his shaft was substantial. My mouth formed an 'O' but I was silenced by his beauty. Stringent golden curls scratched my knuckles and I just held him solid. Firm.

The map of scars that lit his chest and arms did not diminish his masculine handsomeness. Watery, wavery, they bled color like the insides of a luminous oyster shell.

_I could no longer hear Emmett's voice._

Time was soldiering on.

The hay bales of his locks shook with the greedy strokes I plundered over him, the slither of venom, drops oozing out of the pursed lips atop his blooming reddening head. Wetness traced like tracks of tears over his long, straight tumescence.

On my knees, I planted my face in his lap, suckling his thunderous cock like it was the last nourishment on Earth to be had. Inside my mouth he felt bigger, he became more compact. As deeply as possible I savored the glide of him, in and out. Fat drops of moisture had me murmuring incoherently with their sticky raw honeyed essence.

_Rosalie was murdered._

Jasper halted my supping with a choking clutch to my hair. Looking up, I watched him lick his ample ruddy lips, and saw the black of his half-mast eyes. Loosening my pants, I stepped out of them as I lifted; every movement higher was another inch of nude, masterful flesh against flesh.

Long, lean, lithe, and lethal, Jasper went straight for my nipples with his sensational mouth and right for my cock with two handfuls!

"Fuck me, Edward! You are so fucking stunning!"

I laved his ear sweetly and smiled with harsh glory, "Jasper, do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Taking his shining shaft in my fist, we stood just slightly apart, hands slowly walking over shoulders, torsos; the musculature of ribs, the divots of stomachs, the clenching satin of buttocks. I held his cock lovingly, wanting it everywhere all at once, and he tightened his counterpoint stroking on mine. Our nightshade eyes met just as our erections did and the feeling almost brought me to my knees, knocking me near off my feet! But I held his gaze. I watched his lush mouth part as we rubbed circles around each other, trading venom, stealing touches. Hard to hard. Glossy cock to downy, rigid shaft. Our dicks tangled and our balls bounced into each other.

So highly sensitive were we that the feeling was rapturous!

A torrent of turgid flesh fucking against each other, slipping in and out of each other's fists.

"Oh, god, please! _Please!_ Edward, I need you inside of me, now!"

So aroused, erotically charged we could no longer kiss properly, it was a meeting of tongues and teeth and mouths that were opened too wide with need.

I laid Jasper down to my pallet. Wishing for a huge fucking bed piled high with linens warmed from the sun and mountains of pillows, feather soft to the touch, instead of this damn barren cell.

Pressing him back with one hand that I ran down the mizzen of his chest, his stomach, down to his cock that I soothed upward so that is was a masthead standing proud between us, I loved that Jasper watched my every move, and his body vibrated beneath me. Sitting back on my heels, I spread the girth of his brawny thighs, chafing against the fine fired hairs and receptive insides of his legs.

Skimming my hands beneath his ass, I spread those sweet orbs and dipped my cock to his entrance, sketching my drenched head just in and just out. I doused him with my fallow seed that larked out.

When he was nice and moist and sopping, and I so fucking stiff and swollen to bursting, I gyrated into him, slowly. Icy drops of venom trickled into my mouth. Blurry-eyed with the feel of him enclosing me, I cried out!

Balls deep, I almost fell to a dead heap upon Jasper, it was too much!

Arcing beneath me, Jasper urged me on, whispering, "_Please, Edward, please," _his last word a broken thing as I dashed out of him and pillaged straight back in.

Wrapping his endless legs around my waist, holding his ankles together at the base of my spine, I stroked his thighs as I plied into him with durable, inflexible, sure drives!

My fingers collapsed to his lips and he sucked them inside.

_Alice's predictions dimmed._

His own hands reveled up and down my forearms and tore over my heaving chest.

"_Jasper!" _ I moaned deliriously.

Being inside him was indescribable, incomparable. So tight, like a punishing clasp that ridged the base of my cock once fully inside. I almost never wanted to leave that sweet envelope, but the rush of wantonness propelled me further.

He was hot! How could Jasper feel so fucking on fire? Wet and so goddamn slippery with the toxin that raced like thick molasses out of my cock with each punitive thrust.

Storm clouds clashing and billows of gasps, grunts.

Cold fire, glacial embers, snowy draughts of breath in severe gusts like arctic breezes across the frozen tundra of chests, hips, balls, cocks. Baking scorching desert sun that was soaking fucking wet!

Ceasing, this fucking close to caving to pure instinct, I looked Jasper in the eye. A question. At his simple nod and the giant lunge he beat up into me, I gave over to animalistic impulse. He wouldn't break. I was already a broken man. Pounded into him. So immense were my thrusts that a human would have been halved in two. Impressive wild force, the hard slap of his cock against his stomach implored me on; the vessels in his engorged shaft were blue fjords lifting poison higher and higher to the surface, dropping tendrils of cum to his abdomen where the liquid streamed into the ligature of fleshly valleys.

Intensity, insanity!

Two enormous shoves in, two pulls up his cock that was now stuffed and purple, and I howled back into the echoing cavern of stone! Soaking his ass and jerking, jerking, jerking, my hips would not stop reaching deeper.

Jasper sat ramrod straight as his cock erupted like Vesuvius with the matter of his cum. Those arduous arms of his wrapped around me and our nipples met, our lips opened over screams, for one instant time ceased, gripping us in the most powerful orgasm! Unleashed, drenching venom surged out of him, wetting the both of us with its delicious unguent threads.

I yelled in release.

_I bellowed because Esme went silent._

And time ticked swiftly.

Hands to hair and over flesh and wet and muscles we shifted quickly.

On my back, I mouthed Jasper's cock that hung suspended like a heavy branch over my face.

With his thighs to either side of my head, his hands beside my hips, Jasper swooped down to my own erection and sopped up the last of my release before pitching over onto me with his lips wide, taking all of me in.

We nuzzled sacs and starved over the tiny causeways from root base to ass, moaning, hardly budged but for small rotations, soft whimpers. I hummed over his dick as I worked it in and out of my throat, loving the ease with which we moved together.

He flattened his tongue and walked it all over my shaft.

"_Mmmmm," _I couldn't think clearly!

Fluttering the tip of my tongue into his welling slit and down to his crushed crepe frenulum, I snacked. Shakily, Jasper whispered over the pulsing vein he was eating, "Do that again, Edward, and I will cum." I smiled into the feast of indulgent flesh displayed before me.

So ripe and ready that it began to ache in my gut to hold out, I took another deep swallow over Jasper and licked his underside, his balls now hard lush figs of ruched flesh.

A final kiss to my cock, Jasper came up behind me, lifted my thigh, and unlocked me. Lips planted to the nape of my neck, his entrance was soft. On our sides, with one hand bearing my shaking, straining head aloft, and the other reaching forward to tenderly bottomline my dick, Jasper kissed me with his whole mouth to my throat, my lips, my cheek and forehead as he swept in and out. I wrapped my fingers in his.

Aching, longing, we were not ever going to be replete, replenished, with death coming.

_Carlisle stopped breathing._

Not retaliatory, just loving regally, Jasper paced faster. Ever soft like the feather-tipped brush of quills, quivering inside of me. He hit my prostate and made me whine out! I jacked up in front of him as he kept on, and it wasn't hard or hurtful.

_This_ was love.

He worked in and out of my at a languorous pace that bit at my heart, made flight of my soul. We touched each other everywhere.

Spumes of venom splashed out into the muggy air, Jasper sank deep inside of me and jilted from side to side, spraying his flume until more than could be held inside of me bled down the sides of his convulsing cock.

This air was sanctified. Blessed, beaten, I turned into his arms and hushed against his lips, "I love you, Jasper."

"Edward, I would rather die in your arms than live without you. I am solely yours." We wound around each other in a web of limbs, destined to end.

A light flickered back on in my mind. Empty black and gray cloaks heaped on the sterile ground and rising plumes of smoke.

Total silence gored my mind. No speech, no voices, and just this one vision.

Even now, with death everywhere, fucking Jasper and then making love with him only begot more passion and I needed to feel him, bare and bold and brilliant, _endlessly_.

Only now was I brave enough to tell him, "I can't hear anyone."

We held each others' faces and met pain for pain. Tears that should have been, carved fault-lines in our jagged, keening features.

More courageous than me, so fucking much stronger, Jasper nodded succinctly, withholding his grief and his voice.

_He had known this was to come._

Blanching, bitten, I killed hope, "They knew, didn't they?"

His words a limp rusk of sound, harsh for its intense feeling, "Yes."

His lips were still swollen and berry red, and I was shocked to remember the feel of them on my own; even with the propinquity of mourning I was greedy for his kiss. My unearthly horrific need for him, again, _right now_ was evident as I sat up and brought him onto my lap, a half step away from situating him upon my shard of a shaft once more.

"They're dead." Leaning closer, I kissed Jasper with appalling lust, feeling specious. Yet knowing this was right.

"For us." Spacious palms caged my biceps.

_Selfish_.

Inclining closer, clinging to the one goddamn thing worth fighting for, I brought Jasper onto me, settled him down over me, and sat with him on my lap and my unbearably aroused cock inside of him.

Alone.

Together.

Our lips plucked at each other, tasting the drizzling rain of tears that could not fall. Mourning loss.

Suddenly there was more than insufferable stagnation.

Incongruously, I heard nothing of the Volturi, and it wasn't just that Jasper was sliding all over my cock, drowning out thought.

"Jasper, they're gone. The Volturi have fled!"

I held him static with my muscles clamping down. Jasper whimpered in relief and the need for me to continue moving.

"_Shhhh_," I begged. Keeping Jasper tightly coiled to me.

Jasper reared up and tried to sink back over me, "I can't, I'm sorry, I just-"

A finger to his mouth silenced him. A shake of my disheveled hair made him drearily curious. I looked through the room, my eyes wanting to know who was at the door downstairs.

"I need quiet," I carefully intoned to his ear, "Someone's coming."

Upon a deep breath, Jasper anchored himself to me with arms and legs, hope meeting gloom, "Who is it? _Oh God!_ Edward! _Who is it?!_"

Tiny footsteps, a sanctimonious knock.

I grinned over his mouth, and stole away his grimace with my words, "Alice survived."

~Fin~~

* * *

**~~How are you feeling? I'm a lot bit weepy. Oh yeah, that was really my first slash lemon, so tell me what you think~~**

**I'm not saying that there won't be a sequel on down the line ;). I mean, obviously. Right? Hit the alerts, faves, and most especially, that review button if you want more.**

**Gushing thanks to my Double Wide deviants! Huge fat hugs to C-Me-Smile and RedVelvetHeaven (I could just squeeze on you hard)! Vi, you are simply amazing, and always on-call.**

**Brilliant love to all who supported me in my passing fancy by favoriting, reviewing, and mentioning at The Gazebo, A Different Forest, and anywhere else!**

**PS. There's a slashy o/s I am doing for my Portentous Prompted Twi 25 Challenge, see my profile. The slash is coming soon and will be titled **_**Wood**_** (ha ha ha)**_**. **_**So keep your eyes wide open for fun southern lovin'. Vamp Jasper, human Edward, sultry sweet!**

**This was what I was listening to while I wrote: **

_**Rearrange Beds**_**, An Horse**

_That bit before you remember  
Everything you own begins to blend in  
To bones that ache with things that you can't spell_

_Rearrange beds to make sure thoughts flow straight from my house to yours  
When you're asleep you can forget about us all_

_Aches that sail like ships through cartilage you never did anything to  
For some reason it wants you to know it's not so happy with you  
When your eyes open wide for just one second inside  
The morning is your own, the morning is your own_

_When your eyes start to clear up and you come to terms with everything that you've got  
The loves don't fall out like they used to, they just fall straight back into you_

_Aches that sail like ships through cartilage you never did anything to  
For some reason it wants you to know it's not so happy with you  
When your eyes open wide for just one second inside  
The morning is your own, the morning is your own  
The morning is your own, the morning is your own_

_Save a piece of strength for me  
Keep it safe and clean and tidy  
I swear, one day, it'll come in handy_

_Save a piece of strength for me  
Keep it safe and clean and tidy  
I swear, one day, it'll come in handy_

_Aches that sail like ships through cartilage you never did anything to  
For some reason it wants you to know it's not so happy with you  
When your eyes open wide for just one second inside  
Aches that sail like ships through cartilage you never did anything to  
The morning is your own, the morning is your own  
The morning is your own, the morning is your own_


	5. In His Command

**Guess what, Twi-slash mavens? My first m/m erotic romance novel was published August 6th, 2013, by Grand Central Publishing-Forever Yours! IN HIS COMMAND is the first in the DON'T TELL trilogy. I'd love it if you checked it out! And any time you need to find me, my pen name is Rie Warren, and kinks and links are below and on my profile.**

**Tease blurb:**

A race against the Revolution. A forbidden love. The future is on fire. Attraction isn't just dangerous. It's deadly.

**Here's a fuck-hot sneak peek:**

He took the hint and retreated to the tent where he tacked down the sides. "Why don't you come in here?"

"Used to roughing it."

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't mean you have to."

"Yeah, it does." Because my lack of creature comforts was my own personal torture device, like the horsehair shirts I'd read about once. My reminder I was a hypocrite, doing The Company's dirty work when every part of me was disgusted by them.

Still, my fucking motor mouth decided it wasn't time to turn in. "Erica always thought there was something better. I couldn't afford to think that way."

Stepping around the hot coals of the fire, Blondie stood over me with his hands on his hips. "Maybe you can."

I rolled onto my side, lifting my head to meet his gaze. "You suggesting you're that something?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggestin'." He was defiant. There was no smile to relieve the seriousness on his face. His dimples had been MIA all night long and I wondered if I'd ever see them again. "I've been beaten by the same stick, you know? Guess I'm just an idealist."

He turned back to the tent with a shrug, leaving me with a few words that were nothing near the goodnight I wanted. "But I understand where you're comin' from."

Where I was coming from wasn't a place I wanted to revisit. This thing unfolding inside me was taking up a lot of space. It felt like hope, hope I hadn't tasted in a long time, and I wasn't willing to give that up yet. Leaping to my feet, I followed him into the tent. His shirt was halfway over his head, his back to me.

_Perfect._

I ran one knuckle down his spine, watching chills rise and collide along his sides. His motions halted with his head still stuck inside the shirt.

I peeled it all the way off, his jaw captured in my hand while I brushed his ear with my lips. "I'm looking for something better tonight."

Shudders coursed from his shoulders to those lean hips I was growing to love. I spun him around and yanked his pants lower until a peek of pubes and the cliffs of muscle showed.

My forearms grasped in his hands, he drove his tongue along my collarbone. "That's right, big man, take what you need."

Shoving him on top of a sumptuous bed of blankets he'd arranged inside the tent, I towered over him. "You sure you know what you're saying?"

His wink set off the crinkly corners of his eyes. "Sure as I am of anything."

I toed off my boots, staring at his mouthwatering torso, the sloping pads of his pecs. "That's not real reassuring."

"Fuck reassuring. Take those pants off and get down here, honey." He grinned.

_Mmm, hello dimples. I've been waiting for you._

I knew when I broke the rules people got hurt. Well, there was no one left to hurt out here but me . . . and him. What the hell else did I have to live for? Maybe the Corps was a bust and this mission was a trap. Maybe I'd never been allowed to have what I wanted. That was gonna change now.

Then he arched in such a sinuous way, my mind was totally made up. My fatigues quickly shed, I kicked his legs wide. I tore through the button and zipper of his pants, bringing his cock into my hand. _Fuck, he was gorgeous_. His penis was a thick solid length drizzled in pre-come. His body shifted and bucked in time with my caresses as I stroked him in and out of my fist.

I felt the beat of his dick under my lips when I sent slow wet kisses up and down his shaft, nibbling the thick veins, lapping at the soft triangle of skin under the head until his thighs jerked beneath my hands. His cock batted my abdomen when I stalked higher, biting and bruising his nipples with hard pinches. And true to form, Blondie was a talker.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed. Hiking up his hips, he hit his cock to mine, letting out a dirty laugh when I moaned. "Like that, big man? Like to feel my cock sliding against yours?"

I mashed my mouth to his, planting my hands beside his head as I rose up. I brushed his hair aside and sampled his earlobe, "You're damned right I like it. What about this?"

I slid our throbbing weights together, propelling him up while I fucked down until we made a magnificent rhythm of balls slapping, cockheads tapping, hands kneading. His ass in my hands, I sat back on my heels, our shafts sliding and grinding together.

"Look at that," he gasped, lunging his hips.

I slapped my hand down on his abs, controlling him. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!"

Our cocks crushed between our stomachs, I let go to the hungry rush ricocheting inside me. I spread his thighs so I could get right between them, nipping his lips, sucking his tongue into my mouth.

Blondie lent a slick hand to my balls. "I'm gonna suck you so good down here, have these plums inside my mouth until you come right down my throat."

Thrown into ecstasy, I yelled, "_Ahhh_, yes, baby!" Lightning raced down my spine and up through the tip of my cock, and I jetted come up his chest, jerking like a puppet on the strained strings of my orgasm.

Choking on groans I couldn't contain, I tore my fist up and down his dick, watching his pulse kick, his blood race, his face cave in as his muscles screamed for release.

Knocking his knees further apart, I brought a fingertip damp with my seed to his lips. "Taste this while I drink you."

I swooped over his cock, taking it down until all his long dense arousal was beating against the back of my throat and his sacs rested under my chin. Then I lashed low upon his delicious testicles with my tongue. His cry billowed out the same as his come did, unending satisfaction rending the night, rippling in a warm gush down my throat.

I gathered him in my arms. A job-well-done grin spilling from my lips, I nuzzled the shaved side of his hair. "Next time, you're gonna come same time I do."

His stomach jumped under my hand. "That an order, Commander?"

"Get used to it, Blondie."

**Full blurb:**

_Attraction isn't just dangerous, it's deadly._

It is the year 2070. Generations ago, the world was annihilated by catastrophic environmental events. The survivors were driven to live in big city centers ruled by the Company. To rebuild the world's population, the oppressive Company had one rule: all homosexuals must be exterminated.

Commander Caspar Cannon has a stellar military reputation—and a life-threatening secret. When a revolution rips through the territories, Cannon is ordered to escort Company executive Nathaniel Rice to a secure location. For months, the commander has harbored illicit desire for Rice, knowing he cannot act on his attraction. Privileged, polished, and groomed to one day take over the Company, Rice is drawn to the rugged, military man. Yet Rice has his own mysterious agenda, and he knows their love can be as dangerous as the wasteland they must traverse.

Now leaving the besieged city behind, the two men embark on a journey that becomes a minefield of sabotage, betrayal—and forbidden passion. But when danger catches up to them, can Cannon trust the secretive man who holds his heart—and his fate?

* * *

Live links are on my profile, and you can also find my social media hangouts—come chat! I'd love to hear from you.

xoxo~

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